


A bit of recklessness and a bit of bravery

by confusedsheep



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Attempted Abortion, Changing Pronouns for Crowley (Good Omens), Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Kid Fic, Kinda MPreg, Love Confessions, M/M, Memory Alteration, Misunderstandings, Pre-Apocalypse, Pregnancy, a bit of Angst with a happy Ending, but not really, but not really 'cause Crowley has the appropriate parts for it, it's all very consensual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:20:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 35,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25916491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/confusedsheep/pseuds/confusedsheep
Summary: He wanted it, dreamt of it for several millennia, and sometimes spent hours imagining it while a smile played on his lips.But not like this.Also known as the one in which Crowley misunderstands the situations, does a very stupid thing, discovers he’s royally fucked and tries to nope out of the situation, only to find out he can’t. And instead of discussing it with Aziraphale like a big boy, he stubbornly deals with it by himself – or tries to. Fortunately, Aziraphale is not one to be shunned away so easily.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 47
Kudos: 123





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First, I have to thank for the inspiration for the beginning of this fic to Alice Rovai and her comic Falling (https://alicerovai.tumblr.com/post/188302964486/part-1-of-falling-next-follow). She's so talented and wonderful, so please check out her work.  
> As for this fic - don't even ask. I started back in October and it was supposed to be like 2k max and I ended up with this monster.  
> Also, I hate tenses (why can't English have only past, present and future like a normal language?!) and punctuation >.<

An unfamiliar ceiling.

That’s Crowley’s first thought when he sleepily stretches, turns to his back and opens his eyes, blinking two times just for the good measure. It feels like he should know this ceiling, like he’s seen a similar one, quite frequently, to be honest, but he cannot recall where or when.

Unfamiliar ceiling means the firm bed under him with soft pillow and sateen bed sheets is also an unfamiliar one. It’s not the first time Crowley has woken up in an unknown bed, not by a long shot, but it ceased to happen recently. And by recently he means last few centuries.

He shuts his eyes for a second, pondering if maybe transporting directly home right now without looking for any answers wouldn’t be the best solution to this problem, but then sighs with resignation, turns his head to the right and opens his eyes again. And his breath catches, unlike his heart rate which skyrockets.

Inches from him lies Aziraphale, still deeply asleep, hair dishevelled and his face even softer than when he’s awake. Somehow, he looks much younger and - Crowley cannot find a better adjective - _angelic_. He’s mesmerized by the view as there is seldom an opportunity to see the angel this up close. He traces his features with his eyes as if it’s the first time seeing them, and in some sense it is. He becomes aware that his fingers are reaching to the angel’s face only when they are millimetres away. He hurriedly yanks his hand back, scared of what he’s almost done.

And then the cold fear crashes over him like a tidal wave and spreads within him in seconds when he realizes what has happened here. Suddenly, he can’t tear his eyes from Aziraphale’s naked shoulder where the blanket slid down and revealed pale skin dotted by a lonesome freckle, while panic seizes him. He can’t remember how to breathe or even that he doesn’t necessarily need to. His knuckles are white from grasping the blanket and the frequency of his heartbeat is more appropriate for terrified birds than human beings.

This can’t be happening. After all these centuries of careful dancing around the issue, after keeping the hints as subtle as possible, after remaining the safe distance from even accidental touches, he just has to go and destroy it all in one night. All the effort and restraint he went through in order to keep his angel safe, and it was all for nothing! Just because he couldn’t control himself for one evening, couldn’t stop himself from _wanting_ and _lusting_ and succumbing to temptation. No, that’s not right, he’s the one who did the tempting, who pushed and prod until he pressed Aziraphale enough for him to cave in. And wasn’t that a disturbing thought? He pressured the angel over decades, over centuries, to become accustomed to him, to lower his guard, to place trust in him, only to violate this trust the first opportunity he got. He’s as good as forced him to-

And now Aziraphale will Fall for Crowley’s recklessness.

If it was possible for the demon to throw up, he would have done it by now. His whole body is trembling and he can’t stop blinking as his eyes sting. He is now sitting up, a blanket pooling around his waist, but he doesn’t remember rising. His eyes notice the various pieces of clothes scattered around the room, but before he can form any new thought, the angel next to him stirs a little in his sleep.

Only one thought emerges in Crowley’s mind, strong enough to suppress anything else.

He can’t let Aziraphale Fall. Not for his own sins, not like this.

Before he knows what he’s doing, he leans closer to the sleeping angel, puts his hands on his delicate temples which he remembers kissing just hours ago, and focuses. He can still make it right. He can take it back. Like it never happened. Like they managed to stop drinking last night soon enough to avoid making this grave error. He will fix this. He will make it better by erasing what was never supposed to happen. He will take this burden upon himself, freeing the angel from a mistake that was never meant to be his.

There isn’t any sign that it worked, but Crowley knows. When the angel wakes up, there won’t be any traces of what happened last night. Where there’s no crime, there’s no punishment.

He allows himself one tear falling from his wet eyelashes, one last look on the sleeping angel, and then he springs into a rapid series of snapping his fingers - tidying up, getting himself and Aziraphale dressed, and fixing the flat as if the evening didn’t take a turn to the worst – and let’s be honest – and also the best outcome Crowley could imagine. Because even though he feels the cold dread weighting him down, he can’t deny he enjoyed what happened here last night. He wanted it, _dreamt_ of it, for several millennia, and sometimes spent hours imagining it while a smile played on his lips.

But not like this.

He burns with shame, which comes hand in hand with guilt and regret and all the feelings swirl inside Crowley’s mind, overwhelming him. He can’t stay here any longer. He can’t stand himself any longer.

He all but runs out of the bookshop and next thing he knows, he’s in his flat, burying himself in his bed and willing himself to sleep as if by sleeping it away he could actually make anything better.


	2. Chapter 2

Waking up was always a bit disorienting for Crowley. Not only were the curtains drawn shut creating almost complete darkness, but there wasn’t any alarm clock or any other type of clock anywhere in the room to be used as a hint. Was it 9 in the morning or midnight? Who the fuck knew, certainly not Crowley.

The temperature in the room was pleasantly high, so it could be beginning of summer, which would be a bit concerning as it was autumn when he went to sleep, but the air wasn’t stuffed enough to imply it was closed for such a long time.

With eyes still closed, Crowley tried to think around the post-sleep haze in his brain, which only resulted in groaning as he became aware of the horrible taste and dryness in his mouth. He had been drinking then. Nothing new, but he really should remember to clean his teeth before falling asleep. He wearily lifted his arm and snapped his fingers. There, better.

He let his arm fall back down, feeling exhausted, and wasn’t that a bit unfair, to be so tired out right after waking up? How long was he sleeping anyway?

Crowley’s hand fumbled around the bedside table, knocking some piece of paper to the floor in the process. Finally, he grabbed his mobile phone, bringing it to the pillow beside his head. He pushed the ON button and at the same time opened one eye.

17:43 Tuesday, 25 January

January, huh? What year? They really should put a year in the date format on a phone display – how is a supernatural being to know when they wake up like this?

That’s when the first cramp in his stomach hit him. Crowley was caught by surprise, abruptly opening both eyes wide before scrunching them back shut. As soon as it started, it stopped again, as if it was never there. Crowley blinked in confusion and waited few moments if it comes back. It didn’t. He dismissed it as nothing serious; maybe a small mishap of his body upon waking up after a long period of stillness.

Something was off, though, and it took embarrassingly long for Crowley to notice what it is. He felt hungry. Not peckish in ‘I just wonder how this particular food tastes like and I would like to try it just to satisfy my curiosity’ way, but more like ‘Where’s food? I need some right this bloody moment!’ way. Which was… unusual. No, not unusual – unheard of. Aziraphale may be rubbing off on him a bit too much. Speaking of which-

Crowley abruptly curled up into a tight ball letting the memories of the last evening he remembered and the following morning flood his mind. _It’s okay_ , he tried to calm his anxious mind over the torrent of all-consuming hurtful details from his memories, reminding him exactly what he had done. With a lot of effort, he pushed them aside and focused on relaxing his suddenly tense muscles. _He’s fine, I took care of it_. Even so, he was hyper-aware of how shallow his breathing was and that all he could hear was his heartbeat in his ears. _It’s fine, I said! No need to be so dramatic about it. You screwed up, you fixed it. Now calm the fuck down_.

Crowley forced himself to uncurl and sit up, throwing his legs over the edge of bed. His right leg stepped on a paper he now remembered knocking off the bedside table. Crowley bend down for it and waved the other hand in the direction of the curtains to open them.

_I stopped by to make sure you’re alright. I took the liberty to heat your place up as it was freezing. Please call me when you wake up. –A_

_See? I told you so_ , he growled at himself, but couldn’t deny he felt relieved anyway.

This was when the second cramp decided to rip through him before disappearing again.

With a frown, Crowley turned his attention to his corporal body, swiftly looking for any external injury or illness within. Apart from tense muscles, there did not seem to be anything amiss. Except for the hunger. At first, he thought he would just ignore it, but as he was aimlessly roaming through his flat, taking care of plants while having a stern talk to them, and even later putting a kettle on the stove, he realized the weird feeling in his stomach wasn’t going anywhere. When even a cup of coffee (containing almost as much sugar as coffee) didn’t solve it, frustrated, Crowley popped to the closest restaurant (Italian) ordering the first thing he saw for a takeaway. The owner stared at him a bit taken aback when he handed the demon his food as he couldn’t remember they were even doing takeaways. Crowley didn’t take any notice of him and hurried back to his flat. There he sat in the living room, news quietly streaming on his TV screen, to which he didn’t pay any attention. Fork tightly gripped in his hand, he tried to persuade himself this is normal.

It wasn’t normal. And he wasn’t much looking forward to what he was about to do.

He did it anyway.

With more force than necessary, he stabbed the slightly twisted pasta and after a brief hesitation put it in his mouth. Cautiously, he started chewing, wondering, no, more like hoping that this time it will be different. That whatever was wrong previously somehow sorted itself out during the centuries. It took him just a few seconds to find out that no, nothing changed. Crowley spit it out, trying to get rid of the disgusting taste as soon as possible.

He hated it. Ever since he could remember, anything he ate tasted the same to him – like ash and something burnt, leaving a nasty bitter aftertaste in his mouth he couldn’t get rid of. It was part of the reason why he did not understand Aziraphale’s obsession with food. At first, he thought he just had not come across the right types of food, but soon it become obvious the angel could taste entirely different flavours than him and that every food was somehow specific – not the same unappetizing muck he took it for. Maybe it was a demon thing. Hard to tell as he couldn’t exactly go to Hastur or anyone from Down Below and ask them.

Annoyed he lifted his hand to snap the food away, but his stomach chose this moment to loudly demand to be fed. Crowley hesitated and that was when a new cramp raced through his midsection. He swore, grabbed the fork and stabbed another piece of pasta, shovelling it in his mouth. He chewed with a glare, trying to swallow it the fastest he could. The taste didn’t improve from the last time he tried to eat something and Crowley was thankful his body didn’t know how to throw it back up. With sheer determination he continued painstakingly chewing until he finished all of the food before him. He all but threw the fork down and leaned back in his throne. The hunger was gone, which was satisfying, but the bitter aftertaste stayed even when Crowley freshened his breath with a snap of his fingers.

Something else stayed as well. A weird feeling in his lower stomach that Crowley previously associated with hunger was still there. It wasn’t a pain, nothing like a sword cutting through his insides or a dagger carving his skin, no, he knew those and this wasn’t it. It couldn’t even be called a pressure, although that was probably closest to it. He laid his palm on his stomach and pushed on it slightly, but he couldn’t feel anything amiss that could cause it, whatever it was. It was just a feeling, not unlike anxiety. He dismissed it as he reasoned it’s probably just nerves from the whole blunder with Aziraphale.

***

Four days later the feeling was still there. Sometimes, Crowley could also feel jabs of pain as if he pricked himself with a needle, only that the needle was lodged in his insides. Although he slept every night and even parts of days, he was still exhausted. It didn’t much help that his muscles were still sore from the long inactivity during his nap and screamed at him at every quick or unexpected move. And the hunger kept returning. The second time it happened, Crowley simply refused to obey his stomach and ended up blacking out in the middle of his plants room. He woke up to another series of cramps, which succeeded in forcing Crowley to leave his flat in search for some food. Any food, as he found everything disgusting exactly the same.

All of this convinced Crowley that something was _wrong_.

After he managed to finish another serving of some inedible rubbish – which wasn’t an easy task as his throat kept closing up and refusing to swallow properly – he decided to draw himself a bath.

He didn’t indulge himself like this frequently, so every time he did, it felt special. It was a pleasure reserved for the times he managed to finish an important job, or when he felt in an especially good mood, usually following a meeting with Aziraphale. This time he just needed a way to persuade his body to relax.

Once the bathtub was full almost up to the edge, Crowley quickly discarded his clothes and submerged in the hot water, miraculously not spilling any of it. He stretched his legs and with a content sigh he closed his eyes, leaned back and let the water warm his body. He enjoyed the stinging sensation the nearly – but not quite – steaming water gave him. Slowly, he flexed his fingers, stretched his neck, and rolled his shoulders, varying between tensing the muscles and relaxing them again. As the blood circulation sped up, the strain in his muscles started to ease and the tension that bothered Crowley the whole week drained slowly away.

He stayed like this for something close to half an hour, making sure the temperature of the water did not drop even by a degree. When he felt properly relaxed and – to be quite honest – more like a goo then a proper human body, he turned his attention to the inside. Taking his time, he scanned and made notes how everything was working, this time not looking only for damages or symptoms of diseases, but anything that may differ from how it was before.

After few minutes, he found what resembled a random cluster of cells, seemingly out of place.

Crowley heard of human illnesses and he knew about the one that was the most on the rise these previous decades, the one where cells grow and spread throughout the body for no other reason than to destroy their healthy counterparts. His body wasn’t supposed to be prone to illnesses, but he also wasn’t supposed to be able to do blessings in place of an angel, and here he was.

A pang of fear caused him to tense again, so he coerced himself back into relaxed and pliable state and continued his search, reaching to the cluster, prodding and observing, looking for any clues of what it was. When he found out, he could kick himself that he didn’t recognize it sooner. Not that he had any previous experience researching it, but under normal circumstances it was so easily detectable in humans, so mundane, that if he was, in fact, _a human_ , he would recognize it right away. The problem was that he _wasn’t_ a human and this should not be happening to him.

Now that he was aware of it, of the continuous pulsing rhythm deep in his body, he couldn’t not sense it. Incredulously, he reached to it once more, to explore it further, but when he got closer, a spark emerged from the cluster and zapped him. Another cramp-like pain flooded his body, causing Crowley to draw back and curl up into himself. He opened his eyes again, fully yellow at the moment. Cold dread quickly spread through him, and suddenly he couldn’t sit here any longer. He had to move, he had to think, but he couldn’t think, not here, not like this. He scrambled out of the tube, not caring about the spilling water, and immediately slipped on the wet floor. He flailed his arms and hit his forehead on the edge of the tube on the way down. Few red drops fell to the pristine white floor, where they mixed with water, blurring into a light pink colour.

 _Pathetic_ , he thought, lying sprawled on the floor, listening to not one, but two heartbeats within his body.


	3. Chapter 3

Now that Crowley knew what was inside him, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. Even though he couldn’t possibly feel it with his human senses, he was aware of it, imagining it all the time. How it sits inside him, all nice and comfortable, leeching on its surroundings like some parasite, sucking up his life force, making him weak and tired all the time. This, this _thing_ , was the cause of all the problems.

This was what made him gag on food he didn’t want to eat and what made him collapse if he refused.

This was what on more than single occasion made him throw up halfway through another unappetizing meal, even though Crowley hadn’t even been aware he _could_ throw up, only to force him to finish the food anyway and then get some more.

This was what kept him awake at night, sending random bolts of pain throughout his abdomen.

It had no business being there, doing this. It shouldn’t even exist. He may have the right human parts for it, but that didn’t mean he _was_ a human. Neither angels nor demons were supposed to bear children. It wasn’t their place as the only one who could create a new angel (or a demon, for that matter) was Her. It was humans, who procreated in this peculiar way, but last time Crowley checked _He. Wasn’t. One. Of. Them_. He never heard of anything even remotely similar to his situation, but he also never heard of any relationship between an angel and a demon before. Surely, it wasn’t possible even in such a case, it couldn’t be. The thing inside him was an abomination and the only reason Crowley hadn’t got rid of it yet was his fear and the unacknowledged fact that it didn’t belong solely to him.

At first, he opted to drink himself into oblivion, trying to avoid thinking about the situation and possible consequences whatsoever. He just refused to deal with this and kept filling up his glass, staring into space as his thoughts floated away from him. Eventually, he fell asleep right there in the chair, only to be woken up a few fitful hours later by stabbing pain in his stomach. He doubled over, unsure if he wasn’t discorporating right there on the spot. _That_ would certainly take care of his little problem. But no, the pain eased up after an hour or so, dissolving into a mere throbbing. And the _thing_ was still there.

Crowley was sick of this. And he was angry. He knew he screwed up, but he fixed it, _he fixed it_ , for fuck’s sake! Sacrificing the angel’s memories hurt him much more than it hurt Aziraphale and left a permanent stain on his conscience. By doing this he maybe even sabotaged their whole relationship in the process, as he now wasn’t able to meet the angel, couldn’t face him after this, and wasn’t it enough? He had already been punished for his mistake, hadn’t he? But if Crowley knew something about punishments, it was that they seldom fit the crime. He found that out first-hand, being kicked out from Heaven for something as insignificant as asking questions. And now this.

But mostly he was scared. This time he couldn’t just pretend that everything’s cool and he’s got it under control. His cockiness wouldn’t save him this time. If Hell found out… let’s just say there’s a good reason demons do not have any ties to other beings. And that’s only in case they wouldn’t be able to tell that an angel was somehow involved. If they were, then both of them are done for in ways Crowley didn’t ever want to imagine. Aziraphale wouldn’t even know what hit him when they got to him. And he wouldn’t even know why.

Every moment Crowley let the thing inside him grow, he risked being found out and compromising the angel, and that’s the one thing he refused to be responsible for. He couldn’t be the reason they get hold of Aziraphale, he just couldn’t. He had to deal with this, fast.

The fear was still there, though, making him second-guess himself. What if it didn’t work the way he hoped it would? What if it attracted the attention of Hell and they found out anyway? What if he ended up discorporating himself and wouldn’t be able to get another body? Oh, how much he wanted to discuss it with his angel, to ask his opinion on this matter, to seek reassurance, to be told he did the right thing after all.

Contacting Aziraphale wasn’t an option, though, and he knew it. The angel couldn’t know about this. His own stance would have to do.

Crowley laid a hand on his lower belly and mentally checked the condition of the thing inside. Still there, growing. Just few moments more and then he will be rid of it. Ever since he woke up from his long nap, he hasn’t been able to breathe out properly, but once he’s done with this, he will finally be able to relax a bit. He may even take a vacation for a while, in some distant country, tempting local leaders to increase taxes on alcohol or something. That would be nice. Just him, on his own, without any distractions.

He closed his eyes. _I’ll be myself again and you’ll be gone. Finally. I’m not gonna miss you, you little bastard._

He felt the cluster pulse, its heartbeat steady.

_Say goodbye._

Crowley snapped his fingers.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for blood and stuff - this is the attempted abortion part.

Crowley wasn’t aware of the full extent of his powers, but as far as he knew, they never failed him, when he needed them. Sometimes, it even amazed him what he could do, if he really wanted to, and on a few occasions he spent hours thinking what he could possibly use them for to make his position in the world more bearable.

There was only one time he didn’t manage to use his magic up to its potential and had to make a compromise of doing only a small miracle instead. That time his powers were damped by the surroundings, which happened to be a church. Not a good place for a demon and definitely not a place, where a demon should find himself under the threat of discorporation by a falling bomb.

It seemed like sacred places were off-limits, but his bedroom was hardly a sacred place. It should work – Crowley would only snap his fingers and the _thing_ would be gone. He plucked up the courage before he could give it another thought and did it. Such a small movement of his fingers that could potentially have massive consequences.

There, it was done. He sighed in relief. He didn’t discorporate himself, that was good. In fact, he didn’t feel any different, so he reached out with his essence to make sure.

And there it was. A blur of colours – flashes of blue and red and purple – and light so bright it might as well be white. Still there.

He tried again, closing his eyes and focusing on its faint presence and its heartbeat. He imagined that there was nothing from the start and then he imagined that it _was_ there but now it’s gone. And then he imagined that it fell apart or disintegrated completely.

It did nothing of that sort. Instead, it continued to happily sit in its place, absorbing nutrients from Crowley’s body, making him dizzy.

He even tried to get rid of all the female parts or shift to the male ones, figuring that if there wasn’t appropriate environment, it couldn’t continue to exist.

It didn’t work. He was stuck like this, with the _thing_ still inside.

Maybe there was another way. Desperate times call for desperate measures after all. And Crowley was desperate.

This was a human problem, so logically, by using human methods this can be dealt with. The problem was Crowley didn’t have a clue what those human methods were. And so he found himself at the pharmacist’s where he plied a confused young pharmacist with questions regarding his situation – as a hypothetical example, of course. Poor girl stuttered through her answers, visibly uncomfortable with the tall man with sunglasses looming over her. She glanced every few seconds to the entrance as if hoping someone will come in and save her, but nobody did as at that moment every passer-by intending to enter suddenly remembered an important meeting, to which they were five minutes late already.

When Crowley was leaving, it was with two different pills and exact step-by-step instructions, which he then followed to the letter.

That night and the following day wasn’t exactly pleasant. The girl from the pharmacist’s warned him, but the adverse effects were worse than he expected. First he felt uncomfortable pressure in his pelvis forcing him to lie down. He’s never experienced anything quite like it and for a while he thought he’s going to burst open. Then there were cramps that distracted him from his worries and a pounding headache, which he tried to get rid of by his power and, when that failed, by ibuprofen the pharmacy girl forced on him. If there was any improvement, he didn’t notice it. Soon after, the dry heaving joined the mix as Crowley refused to eat that night and there was nothing he could throw up. He kept a bucket at hand just in case, his eyes stinging at every new wave of nausea rolling over him. He curled up in his bed, trying to minimalize the pain in his abdomen ripping through him, going on for what felt like hours by now. It was hot in the room, way too hot for early March, which meant he probably had a fever as well. That would explain his hair sticking to his sweaty forehead and the overly icky feeling all over. At this point he couldn’t care less.

The worst came around two o’clock in the morning, some five or six hours after he took the first pill. When, following another cramp, Crowley moved to change his position, he noticed a strange wet feeling between his legs. He might have female parts, but he never experienced having a period like human women. The girl at the pharmacist’s explained it to him too, and even gave him a pack of pads, but Crowley just assumed that wouldn’t happen to him as he never bled in his life. This must be it, though. He touched the wet spot and looked at his fingers to make sure; yes, that was definitely blood. The metallic smell of it made his stomach lurch and he shot to the bucket only to dry heave some more. After that he fell back on the bed, drained and hurting all over.

He knew he shouldn’t just lie here soaked in his own blood, but the cramps kept coming and he was tired of it all and wanted nothing else than just go to sleep to forget about this whole thing. Tears of frustration slid down his temples as he willed his body to give him a rest for a while. If it just stopped hurting for a few moments; if the cramps occurred with longer pauses between them; if the blood just stopped dripping out of him.

The sheer amount of it scared him and he couldn’t stop worrying he will discorporate after all. In the darkest moment he considered calling Aziraphale. Just to hear his voice, just to remind himself he should not give up and let this body die. In the end, he didn’t dare to do it – if the angel started to question Crowley’s reasons for calling him or if he simply wanted to see him after such a long time, he may come to his flat to make sure he’s alright and then he would find him in this unflattering state. _That_ was not an option.

The symptoms didn’t let Crowley sleep until late morning, when he couldn’t stay conscious any longer. He woke up few hours later, still exhausted, but feeling a little better. He didn’t have the strength to miracle himself clean, so instead he opted to take a shower that he desperately needed. He peeled the soiled clothes off and let them fall to the floor, spotting some weird wet lumps on his trousers that he hoped he wouldn’t get to see ever again; he’ll get rid of all these clothes later. The lukewarm water woke him up further and soothed his feverish skin. Cramps were still yet to come, but the bleeding continued, albeit a bit lightly. That’s more or less what the girl told him that would happen – all the blood and that _stuff_ , that’s apparently how it works.

It had to be gone by now. It just had to.

First wave of relief washed over him, but right before he let it spread, Crowley shut his eyes and reached inside. He had to see it, he had to make sure.

It was a mess inside. His body’s lining in the area was shredded, leaving heaps of debris in its wake. The dying parts of tissue were scattered around and everything was coated in blood cells. This eerily stillness was how Crowley imagined a complete destruction to look like.

Then a soft thump echoed through the ruined space and Crowley froze.

Another thump followed and then another one. The rhythm was faint, but steady. Crowley reached deeper and there it was. The bright white cluster, the only living thing surrounded by devastation. It steeled itself and somehow managed to stay alive, even if its habitat was destroyed. And it grew.

Frustrated, Crowley hit the tile wall, although there wasn’t much force in it. He slid down to his knees, feeling tired to the bone. Water kept falling on him, bouncing from his trembling shoulders and mixing with salty drops sliding down Crowley’s face.


	5. Chapter 5

Most of the adverse effects wore off in the following days, including the bleeding, but cramps, which Crowley had been experiencing even before this latest fuck-up, stayed. They weren’t exactly frequent, but kept coming now and again, reminding the demon that it wasn’t over. Not that he could pretend otherwise. Every meal the _thing_ demanded was now accompanied with nauseous feeling, which sometimes tipped into an episode of vomiting. Crowley hated every second of these increasing bouts of eating, but avoiding it wasn’t an option. It felt as if the parasite inside held him hostage and Crowley had to follow some unspoken rules; otherwise there would be consequences. It was frustrating how something so small and supposedly fragile could have such advantage over him. He has never experienced such repression of his own self-expression, not even while doing his job – even then he was given a certain freedom by Hell to achieve their goals in whatever manner he deemed appropriate. Now, with this thing, he was reduced to a mere puppet, dancing exactly how his captor ordered him to. Or to a living incubator, to be precise, and Crowley hated every second of it.

And it also scared him like nothing has ever scared him before. Whatever the _thing_ inside him was, it was insanely strong. Not only did it endure several attempts of seriously intended abortion, including one during which its surrounding was completely destroyed, but it managed to force Crowley’s body to rebuild it afterwards to keep itself safe and nurtured.

First few days after the fiasco with human medicine, Crowley kept trying to come up with some other solution. Women from all around the world had to have the same problem as him throughout the times, so there _must_ be some kind of reliable procedure, some small part of folk wisdom that would help him. He vaguely remembered that the Romans used a yellow flower, silphi- sulphu- s- _something_ , for such cases. Well, they also used it as a remedy for a variety of illnesses and as an aphrodisiac, so it was hard to tell, how much it really worked.

If he wasn’t mistaken, there was also a more invasive option available – not something he would prefer, but some situations called for drastic measures. He could have used some of his contacts or create new ones in order to find the information he needed. It required nothing more than a little bit of leg work and maybe a pinch of persuasive skills and that would be perfectly fine – had Crowley not been so damn tired all the time. He always used to laze in bed, when there wasn’t much work to be done (and sometimes even if there was), but that was something he _chose_ to do. Demons were prone to sloth after all, so there wasn’t anything anyone could complain about. Now he wasn’t given the luxury of choice; he either stayed in bed and felt at least a little bit alive or he tried to get up and resembled a zombie. These days he didn’t even bother to go buy food; instead he had it delivered right to his door, appeasing himself that exploitation of underpaid employees would look good in his report for Hell.

The only treat he dared to indulge in – and his stowaway couldn’t force him to get rid of – was booze. If you can’t fight, there’s also an option to flight – and flight meant drink oneself under the table in this case. The less he was sober, the better. And also the less time for wondering what the future held for him and when this will be over. Thankfully, the alcohol wasn’t the only thing keeping him in haze.

Most of the time, the constant relentless dull pain overwhelmed his brain until it was full of white fluff, unable to hold a thought for more than few seconds, so he told himself he would deal with it tomorrow after he rested for a bit. And the next day he would flop to his other side and tell himself, with a hint of desperation, that he would do it the following day. And so on and so forth.

***

If later asked what those five months were like, Crowley would have to admit he only remembered the excessive amount of sleep, the torture that form of eating, and the omnipresent pain and nausea that haven’t ceased to make him suffer the whole time. It all merged together into a long nightmare that he hoped to wake up from, but never did. Few times it occurred to him that discorporation cannot be that bad after all. It wasn’t as if he was in Hell’s bad books, so he probably would receive a replacement, even if more likely later rather than sooner. He would just had to go through all the paperwork and hopefully in few years, well, more like decades, he could be back, with new body and more importantly without some kind of a leeching creature inside him.

He never found enough energy to go through with it, though. Or maybe what he lacked was the determination. He didn’t want to leave this world, not even for a few years. As long as he stayed here, Hell wouldn’t bother thinking up ways how to make his life even more unpleasant than it already was. He did his job, didn’t cause any major troubles to his supervisors, and he was already here and had experience with blending in among humans, so there was no need to replace him with someone else. If – for some reason – he ended up back Downstairs and managed to lose his body on his way there, who knows, maybe there is some young enthusiastic overachieving demon, who would like his Earth post, and what would he do then? How would he be able to meet Aziraphale ever again?

The memory of Aziraphale stung. It went without saying that Crowley did not call him, nor the angel tried to contact him in any way. He probably thought Crowley was still asleep, which suited the demon just fine. He missed him of course, but it wasn’t as if they had been seeing each other all the time before this. It was fairly common for them to fall silent for months and sometimes even years. Crowley knew that and this shouldn’t be any different.

Except Crowley now had to live with the memory of that one night, when Aziraphale finally, _finally_ lowered the emotional walls carefully built around him and for once neglected to be careful of prying eyes from either Upstairs or Downstairs. And Crowley took advantage of it. He exploited the angel’s kindness and took everything that Aziraphale offered. And more. He stopped at nothing. He used the angel to satisfy his own needs, not even pausing to question whether he should. He was the original tempter after all, that was apparently all he was good for. No matter what he tried to pretend to be, he was just a demon and as such not worthy of the angel. He knew that, he has always known that, but being with Aziraphale, staying by his side throughout the centuries, made him think that maybe they weren’t so different. Maybe they were basically the same, their nature based on their choices, not on who was their employer. What a farce! He could never be on the same level as angels, no matter how much time he spent in the company of one. He could disguise himself and he could pretend he was different, but in the core he was still just a snake, slithering around, trying to catch his prey off guard.

He’s always wanted it, always dreamt about them being together, but not like this. The guilt followed him even into his dreams, from which he woke up drenched and trembling. After the first few times he managed to stop himself in the middle of dialling the angel’s number after a particularly nasty nightmare, he left the angel’s message propped on his bedside table to be able to see at the first glance that Aziraphale was fine, that he hasn’t Fallen.

Crowley could remember that night and even if he wanted to forget it (which he selfishly didn’t, no matter how guilty he felt about it), he couldn’t. Not with the proof still clinging to him inside his belly. Crowley was being punished for his crime, but at least the angel was spared, and that was all that mattered in the end. So he had no choice but to accept this new reality with resignation and try to deal with it.

He may be forcing food down his own irritated throat to feed the hungry _thing_ and he may take care not to hurt himself or it, but that didn’t mean he stopped planning how to get rid of it. If it couldn’t be done, when it was still nestled inside him like an egg in an incubator, it may be achievable once it was out. Crowley carefully avoided thinking about the possibility that it won’t come out or that it could try to destroy its nest when it eventually decides to crawl out of there. Maybe it will even die on its own; infant mortality was still pretty high in some regions and he did not plan to go to a hospital. All it could take was a single loop of umbilical cord around its fragile neck.


	6. Chapter 6

Crowley wasn’t brave. Throughout the centuries he managed to find a way how to deal with various situations, so that he didn’t end up discorporated, tortured, or dead, but that wasn’t bravery; it was carefulness and constant vigilance. In this case, the usefulness of both of these qualities went right out of the window and the demon was left clueless and vulnerable. It was a small miracle that during the five long months neither Hell nor Aziraphale popped for a visit and Crowley would cross his fingers for it to stay that way, were he at least a little bit superstitious.

At the end of May, he sensed the thing was almost ready to come out. Lately, he learned to regularly check its development, even if there wasn’t much to see due to the bright light that kept surrounding the creature like a cocoon and obscuring his view. Every time he got too close, the thing struck him like a lightning, so he learned to keep his distance, but continued to observe it all the same. He couldn’t feel it with his senses and couldn’t tell if it at least looked like a human child. He wasn’t even sure if he could call it a child – for him, it was a creature. A parasite. An abomination. It didn’t much help that he himself didn’t think of himself as a pregnant being. If he were to label it, he would call himself possessed. He may have a slightly bigger belly than he used to, but nowhere near as big as women usually had. Instead of protruding outwards, the thing apparently decided to squish all the internal organs of Crowley’s corporation. And it never moved. Not once did he feel a kick or any other movement. It might have been deemed dead, had it not been for the steady heartbeat that echoed through Crowley’s mind.

He anticipated the birth, steeling himself for what he had to do. He’s waited for this moment for months, suffering from the thing’s demands and his own insecurities, but soon it would be over. Just a few more days now.

When it came, Crowley was ready. Or he thought he’s ready, and really believed it. He’s wanted to get rid of _it_ for as long as he knew about it, so he expected it to be relatively easy. All it would take was a little pressure on the thing’s neck for a short amount of time, preferably before it even drew breath.

If it drew breath.

Killing a creature shouldn’t be a problem. Killing a baby, however, was. Crowley wasn’t sure what he expected, but definitely not a tiny, normal, human-looking baby. Its face was all scrunched up as if it – _she_! It was a girl – was thinking really hard and her little fists were clenched as if she wanted to grasp this world and never let go. Crowley couldn’t tear his eyes away, fascinated by this tiny being that didn’t exist not so long ago. A frantic voice in the back of his mind urged him to go on with his plan and get rid of it as soon as possible, and for a split of a second he was tempted. He vividly remembered the previous months and would like nothing more than be rid of the source of his suffering. Nobody knew it existed, so nobody would miss it if he disposed of it, and everything would be back to how it was.

He wanted it, the illusion of normality, but his resolution was already slipping. The baby was so incredibly small, so vulnerable, lying here like this, so helpless. A better (or should we say worse) demon would take his time torturing the little body and possibly even eating it just for fun, but Crowley couldn’t kill a baby, he was not a monster. He liked kids and spend a considerable amount of time among them, so now he couldn’t bring himself to harm one. Even if he didn’t have any affectionate feelings towards this particular one.

Carefully he tried to sense it, looking for characteristics of demons or angels, but the only impression he got was a blur of colours, so he couldn’t tell one way or the other. He wasn’t even sure, if she wasn’t just a human. It was like the baby had some kind of protective shield around it, hiding her from anyone’s prying eyes. It occurred to Crowley that this could be useful, before he paused in surprise and frowned. Something like this shouldn’t matter to him. It’s not like he’s thought of keeping it. He may not be able to murder it, but that does not mean he’s going to become a parent. He’s a demon and demons do not raise children. He should give her to some childless couple or leave her at orphanage, so they have to take care of her. He could even tell himself it’s an evil deed of putting random people into a stressful situation they do not know how to deal with. Perfect plan.

Except she chose this moment to open her eyes. Her astoundingly bluish eyes blurring into green that he recognized so well, because he’s been looking into them for six thousand years. She looked at him as if she was aware of what he was thinking about. She looked at him and even though Crowley knew she couldn’t see him, not really at her age, she kept looking him right in the eye, challenging him. As if she was saying: _I know you don’t like me, but I’m yours_. And at that moment he knew there will be no random couple in distress and no orphanage with a surprise waiting for them on their doorstep. Crowley, who hated the previous five months and hated the creature that was inside him during that time up to the point that he was ready to kill it, couldn’t give her away.


	7. Chapter 7

The following months were full of changes, but if Crowley excelled in something, it was adaptation. Things he didn’t expect to do and things he couldn’t even imagine himself doing – and now he was doing them without a second thought. He was aware it’s completely mad; a demon couldn’t be taking care of children, much less his own. If Hell found out, even if they thought it was a random child Crowley stole somewhere, no explanation would be good enough to get him out of trouble. In a way, by maintaining this foolishness he risked almost as much as with his arrangement with Aziraphale, but it was the perfect balance between self-restraint and selfishness that prevented him from cutting ties with whoever he decided to keep close. With the angel, it was fairly easy to find the mutual connection. He took interest in him almost at once and Aziraphale later reciprocated. They may not see eye to eye on some topics, but mostly they understood each other.

With Eve, it was a bit more of a challenge.

Crowley couldn’t forget her doings during the time she was just a little leeching bastard in his body and was nowhere near forgiving her, even if he understood that she just wanted to survive. Once he actually met her, she was an incredibly sweet baby on her best behaviour, considerate towards his need for sleep and quiet. On one memorable occasion – right after she was born – she left completely exhausted Crowley sleep for almost two days in a row before hunger forced her to call for him. He grudgingly appreciated the gesture, wondering how she could have possible survived so long without feeding. It was small things like these that hinted that there _was_ something slightly off about her, but Crowley couldn’t put his finger on it. She seemed like a normal human baby; eating when hungry, sleeping, even defecating, which was an unpleasant surprise. He couldn’t say he liked her, but he tolerated her.

Soon after Eve’s birth Crowley began to notice that without a foreign entity in his body, he felt much better again and his mood lifted considerably. Beside other things, he could enjoy his plants again, if by enjoying he meant viciously threatening them. Most of them slacked during the previous months as Crowley couldn’t muster the energy to bother with them, but now they noticed the vacations were over and started to take him seriously again.

By this time, he figured that it would be wise to go back to work in order to have something to put in his report for Hell – letting them wonder why his performance dropped was the last thing he needed right now. Nothing complicated, just a mischief here and a quick temptation there, so that he wouldn’t leave Eve alone for long periods of time. He stashed her into a spare room he wasn’t even aware he had until he needed it. He made sure no electronic devices were anywhere in the room and hid the entrance to it in case someone decided to take a stroll through his flat in his absence. He gradually learned to trust her that she wouldn’t make a sound and draw attention to herself. Even so, he still felt nervous and couldn’t relax until he was back with her, although he was painfully aware that he wouldn’t be able to protect her in case a demon showed up. If he was being honest (which he grudgingly hated at any given time – this being an exception), he was more worried about himself than Eve, but the fact was that if she was safe, then he was safe as well and by protecting her he was actually protecting himself.

Her existence was, however, a constant reminder of his failure. Every time she looked at him, Crowley saw the familiar greyish eyes that he remembered watching him _that_ night from above while their human bodies moved against each other with the angel buried deep inside of him. The shame and guilt always forced him to avert his gaze, and soon it became a habit not to look her into eyes.

If asked what his long-term plan was, Crowley would be struggling for words. It was obvious that Eve wasn’t going anywhere, but he couldn’t imagine how he could raise her without anyone ever noticing. It sometimes kept him awake at night and he caught himself pondering over a glass of bourbon why on earth had he decided not to hand her over to someone else, someone experienced, someone more capable. Someone safe. By staying here they posed a dangerous risk to each other. And yet Crowley couldn’t leave her. There was some deep, almost animalistic urge inside him that growled _Mine!_ every time he wondered why the fuck not get rid of her after all.

When it after a few months became obvious to Crowley she’s here to stay, he took care of some necessities like medical checks and vaccination, because in case she was at least a part human, it was better to be safe than sorry. He’s seen enough kids dying of nowadays preventable contagious diseases and was in no hurry to see Eve joining them. On his short errands he bought her clothes and few toys and spend some time playing with her. It seemed she liked her slowly rotating planetary system over her crib the most, always watching the movement of planets, trying to reach them.

Her development was mostly the same as that of a human baby as far as Crowley could tell. By the time she was able to roll to her belly and back, he was spending most of his time in her presence, not always involved in what she was doing, but always by her side in case she needed him. That early December morning she decided to roll her way a bit too close to the chest of drawers, where her clothes and toys were put away, and Crowley had to squat down to her and move her to a safety distance, which she welcomed with a happy squeak and rolled towards the furniture again. He was just giving her a half-stern half-amused reprimand, when he heard footsteps behind him. His protective instincts kicked in and he shot up trying to reach the door with his long, hurried steps before the intruder got to them and he almost succeeded. One step more and he would have collided with a chubby figure dressed in beige.

“Crowley! For the love of God, what are you doing?”

“Hey! Uh, th-that’s my question, Aziraphale. I live here; what are _you_ doing here?”

“I came to check up on you. It’s been a year and you were sleeping the last time I was here. I thought… But you’re awake now. How long have you been awake?”

Aziraphale was staring at him, his eyes scanning Crowley’s face so thoroughly that the demon regretted he hadn’t remembered to put on his sunglasses. He couldn’t be sure what expression was on his face at that moment as he was too surprised to process the situation. The memories of their last meeting flooded his mind and cold dread started to spread in his chest at the same time that colour raised to his cheeks. It seemed his body was confused what was expected of it, so it decided to multitask and just do whatever.

_Did it work? Did the angel really remember nothing? Nothing at all?_

“Um…” That was as far as Crowley got, before a dull thud echoed from behind him. He hurriedly tried to push Aziraphale back to the corridor, creating a human – well, demon – shield between him and the room, but the angel was faster than he looked. He braced himself on the spot, not backing down even and inch, then quickly ducked under Crowley’s arm and pushed his way inside, where he stopped. This room was brighter than majority of the demon’s flat, with softer look to it thanks to a pastel carpet. In a glance, Aziraphale took in a small crib, few toys and tiny clothes before his eyes found the source of the sound. There, on the floor in Crowley’s flat, was a baby, who appeared to have bumped into a furniture. It didn’t cry out as Aziraphale expected it to, but he couldn’t see its expression from where he stood.

The angel stood there without a single movement for a few seconds before turning back to the very anxious demon.

“Why is there a baby, Crowley? Whose baby is it? Did you find it?” His eyes narrowed a bit. “Did you steal it?”

“Of course I didn’t steal it, who do you think I am?” Crowley was almost proud of how careless his voice sounded. Like he wasn’t bending under the stress. Like he wasn’t scared shitless right now. He faked nonchalance and went to pick Eve up.

Aziraphale didn’t back up. “Then why is it here?”

“It’s a she,” Crowley corrected him while he laid her back into her crib. “And she’s mine.”

“What do you mean she’s yours? She can’t be _yours_. You’re a demon and she’s…” Aziraphale abruptly broke off. He was probably trying to check Eve with more than his human senses, but apparently got the same result as Crowley – not a human, not a demon. Not even an angel, but that was irrelevant to Aziraphale. “Crowley,” he said slowly, “what is going on here?”

The demon made sure Eve had everything she needed and then turned to Aziraphale. “Let’s sit down for that.”

***

Tea was made and the sunglasses were found before Crowley sprawled on his sofa, aiming for careless confidence, but missing it by a mile at least. Aziraphale gingerly perched on the edge of very uncomfortable but sleek-looking armchair, holding his tea while Crowley poured himself a glass of wine and drank it in one go.

“What happened, Crowley?”

“I-uh, slept for a bit. That was in- what, October? November? And then she came and I’ve been taking care of her ever since.” He shrugged as if it was an everyday occurrence for him to show up with a child.

Aziraphale wasn’t buying it. “She just turned up. Just like that. Really, Crowley?”

“You know how it is with babies – one moment they aren’t and the next they are. You know how it works – you explained it to me when I was curious about the unicorns, remember?”

“Where’s her mother, then? Why do _you_ keep her?”

“Her mother is out of picture. I’m keeping her, because she’s mine.”

“She can’t be – you’re a demon- “

“Thanks for noticing,” interrupted him Crowley.

“-and demons do not have children.”

“This demon has.”

“But- “

“Have you seen her hair? It’s red. As red as mine. And why do you think it’s that, hmm? Because she’s _mine_.”

Aziraphale fell silent at that. Crowley watched him, all tensed up, waiting. Finally, the angel looked up again. “How old is she?”

“About six months.”

Aziraphale gaped at him and Crowley could swear he saw a tiny flash of hurt in his eyes. “You’ve been awake for six months! Why didn’t you call me? I left you a message.”

“Uh, yeah, sorry, it was- I was a bit-“ He supplied the rest of the sentence by a broad gesture of his left arm.

“Oh. Right. Of course. I should have known. Well, I couldn’t have known about the child, but- Should have known you’re too busy…” He dropped the end of the sentence, looking suddenly sad and angry with himself.

Crowley sat up and leaned forward, closer to him. “I’m sorry, angel. I wanted to call you, I really did, but I had a lot on my mind. And I thought you’d-“ He stopped himself, but then reluctantly added: “I didn’t know how you would react.”

Aziraphale looked up at him fiercely and Crowley couldn’t help himself – he flinched a bit under the darkened blue gaze, instantly averting his eyes. “How I would react? Why? What did you do? Did you do something to her mother?”

“What I- Nothing! She doesn’t matter, really.”

“She doesn’t matter?! You-you _impregnated_ some poor girl and then took her baby!”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake! Eve doesn’t have anyone else and yes, I could have given her to some orphanage or somewhere, but I didn’t, because I care about her!” As he was saying it, Crowley suddenly realized it’s the truth. During the previous months he somehow grew accustomed to her and wasn’t that an embarrassing development. He poured himself another glass of wine.

“Eve?” asked Aziraphale quietly.

“…yeah.”

“That’s a nice name.”

Crowley nodded and took a gulp of wine.

Aziraphale sipped his tea, a thoughtful look on his face. “For how long have you known her?”

“Eve?”

“Her mother.”

“Aziraphale, please, just… stop it, alright?”

“I just hoped you’d introduce us.”

“Err, no, that-that’s not gonna happen.”

“Did something happen to her? Did she…”

“Not dead, just not available.”

Aziraphale nodded and replied rather standoffishly: “Yes, of course.”

Silence fell briefly on the living room until the angel spoke up again. “Is that why you went to sleep for so long? How long did you say you were sleeping again?”

“I didn’t. Just a few months. And yeah, something like that.” Crowley was extremely grateful for the sunglasses. It seemed Aziraphale really did not remember anything from their previous meeting. Crowley found it relieving, but couldn’t help feeling also a faint hint of disappointment. Someday in the future, he would very much like to get to the point when they could have what he wanted them to have, when they could be together how they were together that night, without the fear of being spotted, without constantly having to look over their shoulder to make sure no one is watching. Someday, he would like to tell Aziraphale the truth about Eve.

Although these days, he couldn’t imagine that there will be an opportunity like that, not after all the time that already passed without any major improvements of their situation. And certainly not after what he did to Aziraphale. The guilt continued to gnaw on his insides and he knew he didn’t deserve to be sitting here in the angel’s company, acting like nothing happened. Aziraphale should be furious, cursing him and damning him, just like he deserved. For his sins, he should be smitten.

“I missed you.”

Crowley blinked, dragging himself out of his thoughts. “Eh?”

Across him, Aziraphale fidgeted nervously, looking embarrassed. “It’s been a year and without you it was a tad boring, my dear.”

Crowley ducked his head, really hoping the hotness in his cheeks wasn’t visible.

“I don’t suppose we could catch a lunch together?”


	8. Chapter 8

It has been a year; not a terribly long stretch of time in the eyes of an immortal being, but a long enough time to be without someone you care about. Aziraphale stared into a book propped on his knee, but his brain couldn’t absorb a word of the text. Eventually, he sighed and put the book away.

He left a message for the demon the last time he went to check on him, so had Crowley woken up, he would have called him. No phone call came, though; at least no phone call that wouldn’t be from noisy customers. Aziraphale really hoped that this nap wouldn’t last a century like the last one. There was just so much he could take and another prolonged solitude wasn’t on the list.

He sorted up his bookshop to close it for the day, even though he had just opened it an hour ago, and left for Mayfair. A swift walk would do him good; at least he wouldn’t be stuck in the never-ending loop of wondering why Crowley even chose to fall asleep. He remembered that they were supposed to meet for lunch all those months ago, but when he thought about it, he found out he wasn’t sure if they actually did meet or not. And when he tried calling the demon, his phone calls – all six of them – went straight to the answering machine. Aziraphale tried to pretend he wasn’t worried, but his mind thought otherwise, and when there was no word from the demon for weeks, he couldn’t sit still and instead went searching for his flat. And there he was, hiding away from his troubled mind in sleep as always. It would be a lie to say Aziraphale wasn’t disappointed by this development – he rather enjoyed the demon’s company and with Crowley’s tendency towards drama, it was possible that he would be asleep for a very long time.

So now here he was, in front of the same modern building, exactly like a year ago. Aziraphale took the elevator up and let himself into the flat. He will just check on the demon, just to make sure everything’s okay, and go back. If there’s no change, nobody needed to know he was even here.

On the first glance, everything looked the same as the last year, but then he noticed a sound. It echoed from the general direction of Crowley’s bedroom, so Aziraphale headed that way, a pleased smile forcing its way to his face. Maybe the demon was finally waking up. The angel’s heart might have skipped a beat at that - he’d never seen Crowley that soon after waking up, his face probably still slack with sleep, his hair ruffled in all directions. They could have a breakfast together, or an early lunch, and he would tell him all that the demon missed.

But when he got closer, he noticed the sound’s not coming from the bedroom; it seemed to come from a different room, one that Aziraphale did not recall from his previous visit. He crossed the room with plants, which looked rather lush considering no one took care of them for a year. He expected them to be long dead by now. The door to an unrecognizable room was open, so Aziraphale walk up to it, when someone suddenly blocked his way.

Aziraphale knew the black clothes. He would recognize the red hair anywhere. And he wouldn’t miss any opportunity to see the unmistakeable yellow eyes, staring at him like a deer caught in flashlights.

“Crowley! For the love of God, what are you doing?”

***

Aziraphale didn’t know what he expected, but this wasn’t it. Yes, it was splendid Crowley was awake again, but with a generous amount of guilt the angel realized he almost preferred him sleeping than finding out what he just did. If there was one thing Aziraphale could rely on during all those years no matter what, it was Crowley’s feelings. He was well aware the demon felt something for him, and Aziraphale wouldn’t dare to call it love, yet it was most definitely exactly that. And he revelled in it, enjoying Crowley’s attention and care and if he himself had a soft spot for the demon, well, he was an angel who was supposed to love all God’s creations after all. That was, at least, what he told himself until a certain day back in 1945, when he realized he couldn’t lie to himself any longer. So he spent the following years dwelling on this revelation and thought about the future, imagining how nice it would be to find some loophole that would allow them to be together. If he thought about it a little bit harder, if he had a little bit more time, he could find something, he was sure of it. If Crowley waited just a little bit longer…

But he didn’t. Somehow, without the angel noticing, he found himself a human instead. Aziraphale couldn’t blame him – he did lead him on, even if it wasn’t intentional, for a long time. He flirted with him and indulged in Crowley’s favours without giving anything in return, expecting they will be here to spoil him forever. How selfish of him. He should have made himself more obvious, should have made his intentions clear. He should have given Crowley more.

And he had wanted to. The day he was supposed to meet with Crowley for lunch, he thought about inviting him to the bookshop for wine and maybe – if the demon agreed – they could have… Aziraphale wasn’t entirely sure what they could have done, had Crowley showed up, but at the time he felt he was ready. Ready to acknowledge his feelings, ready to discuss their future, ready to seek the demon’s touch and provide it for him in return.

It was a ridiculous thought, now that Aziraphale was thinking about it. By that time, Crowley must already had had relationship with the child’s mother. Maybe she was already expecting. He would just have made a fool of himself. It would have served him right; it was his fault he let the demon wait for so long, after all.

The smile that appeared on his face was bitter and it took him few seconds to notice Crowley was looking at him questioningly. Aziraphale insisted on having lunch together, but Crowley was reluctant to leave Eve home alone, and apparently it was out of question to take her with them, so they agreed on having something delivered. He was taken aback when the demon laid out several menus from various restaurants in vicinity before him. They probably came in the post and Crowley – for some reason – decided to keep them. Well, it certainly came in handy in this situation, even if it wasn’t exactly Ritz. Aziraphale hesitated before he chose bulgogi with rice and kimchi from a nearby Korean restaurant, Crowley placed an order and in ten minutes the food miraculously arrived. There was nothing for Crowley, which wasn’t all that surprising, but for some reason, the demon looked positively ill just from the smell of food. He poured himself another glass of wine and immediately drank half of it.

They reluctantly talked about recent events, missed plays that Aziraphale wanted to see but didn’t want to go to without Crowley, upcoming exhibition of a renaissance painter they both met back in the day, yet their opinion on his work greatly differed, books the angel was reading, both new and old. The whole time, Aziraphale sensed that Crowley was closely watching him like he waited for something, like he expected him to say or do something, but he hadn’t got a clue what it should be. And he kept leaning away from the angel’s food as far as possible. When asked if he doesn’t like korean food, Crowley just made a face and continued drinking.

What they didn’t talk about was Eve. Aziraphale decided to avoid the topic altogether, partly because it seemed to be a sore spot for Crowley, partly because it most definitely was a sore spot for him. He found himself wondering if things would be like they were before, when the demon now had someone to take care of. Would they still be able to see each other? Would they still be able to go for lunch or coffee or just a walk in the park?

Aziraphale decided that these thoughts were better left to a privacy of his own home and cut the lunch short. He didn’t stay to say goodbye to the baby and were out of the door almost as soon as he swallowed the last bit or rice. His behaviour probably seemed rude to Crowley, but at the moment he didn’t care; he had to get away or he might say something he would later regret.

“I’ll call you,” were his last words.

He didn’t come back after that, nor did he make a call.


	9. Chapter 9

In the previous months, Aziraphale didn’t bother opening his shop so often, opting to rather spend his energy on reading or listening to classical music. On this particular day, however, he felt fairly gracious, which may have been related to the closeness of Christmas, and so he decided to open up. If nothing else, it would at least enable passers-by to hide for a few moments from the cold outside, only long enough to let the blood circulation warm their numb fingers, before they would be off to search for more Christmas presents elsewhere. That might distract Aziraphale from his thoughts, which took turn to a rather self-pitying note these past days.

He was absorbed in a book he was currently reading, still waiting for his first customer, when the bell above the door rang and a brief blow of icy wind entered together with the visitor.

“Angel!”

Aziraphale looked up in surprise, and was even more stunned when his eyes fell on the little form of a baby that was strapped to Crowley’s chest with some kind of shawls.

“I need a favour.” Within seconds, the strips of fabric were loosened, even though Aziraphale didn’t see any knots being untied, and Crowley was handing the baby over. “I need you to look after her.”

Aziraphale felt a rise of sudden panic while he mechanically reached out for her, his thoughts suddenly scattered like a flock of sparrows when he realized he didn’t know the first thing about children. Yes, he has seen them throughout the history, blessed some of them, sometimes talked to them, although not very often as he felt rather uncomfortable doing so, but never has he taken care of one. “Wha-”

“If she’s hungry, there’s some milk in there,” Crowley added, pointing at a pile of baby things that appeared next to the counter. “She will mostly sleep. If there’s a mess, just miracle it away. It’s only for a day or two – there’s some job I have to take care of, you know how it is.” He probably tried to sound unconcerned, but his voice betrayed him and it came out strained and worried. Aziraphale felt a pang of sympathy that – for a second – overshadowed his panic, and before he managed to put his mind back in order and protest, Crowley turned on the spot and was gone again.

It took a few (dozen) seconds for Aziraphale to understand the situation. He, a Principality, the Guardian of the Eastern Gate of Eden, was left alone in charge of probably-around-6-months-old baby, while he knew next to nothing about them. The aforementioned baby was currently sleeping, so luckily there wasn’t much that was required of him in terms of taking care of it right now. He carefully laid it down on the sofa and automatically went to close the shop, locking the door and pulling the blinds down. There he paused for a moment and closed his eyes in hope that when he opens them again, his bookshop will be empty. But when he turned towards the sofa, the baby was still there. Not a chance that the last five minutes were some sort of hallucination, then.

All right, he took a deep breath, he’ll deal with this. Whatever came up, it had to be of utmost importance, otherwise Crowley wouldn’t resort to this – that was perfectly clear to Aziraphale. Not only did he show no interest in the child itself when he first saw it while visiting the demon’s flat, but he also proceeded to keep ignoring its presence, fleeted at the first opportunity, and then never came back. As if the baby was some kind of monster he should avoid at any cost.

A strong wave of shame surged inside him as he chastised himself that he should be the first to show love and understanding. He was an angel, for Heaven’s sake, and jealousy wasn’t something that suited him. He couldn’t help feeling it, though, not with the feelings he harboured for the child’s – what, guardian? father? parent? Even so, he really should work more on self-control. It wasn’t the kid’s fault Crowley eventually decided to look for a better accessible relationship than what Aziraphale could – or to be more precise: could not – provide for him. It wasn’t even Crowley’s fault; that was all on him, the high and mighty angel, who was too much of a coward to at least _try_.

Aziraphale shook his head. Now wasn’t the time. No matter what his thoughts on the matter were, he had a task to fulfil and this time, he won’t disappoint his demon. Crowley wouldn’t have left the baby here if he thought Aziraphale wouldn’t be able to take care of it. If their positions were reversed, Crowley would do anything, _anything_ , to help him out, so it should be only natural to do the same for him. And it’s just for little while; maybe it wouldn’t even wake up before the demon’s back. But just in case, he should probably seek some information about babies and how to take care of them.

He was quite certain he didn’t own any books concerning child rearing, but as he was passing a random stack of books, his eyes fell on the title of the one on the top announcing it to be a big book for expecting mothers. A quick glance downwards confirmed what Aziraphale already suspected – all of the books in this particular pile were about the same topic. The angel thought it best not to question such occurrences, so he just took the first book with him, went to prepare a tea and then nestled himself in his favourite chair and started doing what he did best - reading.

***

In the end, it took Crowley almost three days to complete the task he was given and get back to London, by which time he could barely stand on his own. He was so exhausted that it took a minor miracle and non-stop bitching about Hastur not to fall asleep behind the steering wheel of his Bentley. Briefly, he considered going straight to bed, but for the past three days he felt a nearly constant pull to check on Eve, so he gave in to it and headed for the bookshop.

With a small relief, he noticed that some of the lights were still on, even though the door was locked. Not that it was locked for Crowley, ever. He stumbled inside, eager to see for himself that everything was as it should be, that everyone he cared about was safe. These past days were quite dreadful – not so much because of the job itself, but during the whole time he couldn’t make sure Aziraphale and Eve were okay. Every minute and every second he was away, he worried that this task he was given by Hastur – and personally overseen by him – was some kind of trap or distraction just to get him out of London. What if Hell somehow found out Crowley’s secret and was after Aziraphale or Eve or both of them? He should have warned the angel. He should have found another way to take care of Eve without bringing Aziraphale into it. Come to think of it, he didn’t look particularly pleased anyway. He should have found some nanny instead, someone with absolutely no connection to them, so it would be much more difficult for Hell to find them. It was too late for that; the damage was done and the only two beings in the entire world he cared about were together at one place, which basically screamed for being targeted by whatever enemies there may have been.

So when he burst into the bookshop and didn’t see anyone, the fear hit him like a passing train, and he suddenly become dizzy, his legs shaking. What if –

Before his mind could supply images of Eve being taken and held somewhere and Aziraphale being tortured, a low voice called from the back room.

“We’re over here.”

It sounded like Aziraphale, but he forced his legs to hurry towards the voice, his tiredness momentarily forgotten as he had to see, had to make sure.

And there they were, sitting on the sofa. Well, Aziraphale was sitting on the sofa; Eve was on his lap, more lying than sitting, propped against the angel’s arm that held her securely in place.

“I was just reading to her, but she fell asleep. She does that a lot. But you’ve already known that, obviously.” Then he looked at Crowley, taking in his pale face and still slightly shaking legs, and frowned. “You look dreadful, my dear. Are you feeling well?” When he didn’t get any answer and the demon just stood there, swaying slightly as if he was ready to keel over, he continued: “You should rest for a while. There’s a bed upstairs that I rarely use.”

Crowley couldn’t take his eyes off the sleeping baby – _Safe, she was safe. They both were_. – but his stiff posture slumped with sudden relief and he stumbled and almost fell. Aziraphale’s eyes widened with alarm and he made a move to lie Eve down, presumably to go help the demon. Crowley dismissively waved his hand and turned to the staircase leading up.

“It’s the second door- “

“On the left, I know,” he completed absentmindedly and then froze for a second. He knew Aziraphale was staring at him, he could feel it, but he refused to turn, choosing to go on and act as if nothing was amiss.

He shouldn’t have known where the angel’s bedroom was. As far as Aziraphale was aware, he never set a foot upstairs, so there was no way he would know something like this. Crowley was too tired to try to think of any explanation, though, too tired to do anything, really. He climbed up the stairs with great difficulty, pausing every few steps, and then simply fell onto the bed, still wearing all of his clothes. Just before he fell asleep, his mind supplied him a last thought: it smelled exactly like the last time. It smelled like Aziraphale.


	10. Chapter 10

A familiar ceiling.

And a strong sense of déjà vu. That was Crowley’s first thought when he sleepily stretched, flopped onto his back and opened his eyes. He already knew this ceiling. The memories from the last time he saw it flooded his mind and he hurriedly looked to his right. Nothing – nobody – was there, just an empty side of the bed. Crowley let out a shuddering breath, closing his eyes again. He shouldn’t be here. He caused enough problems to the angel already. Last night he should have taken Eve and gone home. As long as he was here, he couldn’t help but remember. Remember the soft touches. Remember the needy kisses. Remember Aziraphale’s fingers in his hair, stroking and pulling-

He turned to his side and curled up on himself, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. Lying here, in the soft bed with Aziraphale’s smell all around, he couldn’t help but crave that contact again. He wanted to close the impassable gap that existed between them and that they maintained for centuries, for millennia. He wanted to touch and to be touched. He wanted those hand on him again, wandering, exploring, caressing.

He shouldn’t be remembering that, because once he did, it would be followed by the memories of how he got the angel to do that. How he gave him no choice and basically forced himself on him– 

Crowley tried to swallow, but his throat constricted. He really shouldn’t _be_ here. He’s making it worse by coming here, by lying in this very bed, where it all happened. It still even smelled like the angel.

He shot out of the bed like it was on fire. With a snap of his trembling fingers he refreshed his clothes and himself, took the sunglasses he had discarded on the bedside table the night before and left the room without a second glance. Let someone else tidy up the bed – as far as he was concerned, never seeing it again was too soon.

Crowley staggered a few steps down the stairs, before he heard Aziraphale’s voice from somewhere further down the corridor. “We’re in the living room, Crowley.”

He climbed back up and continued to the open door, where he froze. Two identical pairs of somewhat grey in this light rather than blue eyes were staring at him and he had to lean against the door frame so as not to fall from the sudden light-headedness.

“Good morning, dear. Did you sleep well?”

Crowley mumbled something, trying to get himself under control. When he felt he was able to walk again without keeling over, he went to the angel and took Eve from him before sitting on a sofa with her.

“I’ll make you a coffee,” Aziraphale got up and left the room, but continued to call from the kitchen. “She was a complete sweetheart. She slept most of the time and cried only once. I thought that babies cry almost constantly, but she didn’t.”

Crowley bounced Eve in his arms, glad to have her back, and whispered to her: “You hear that? You were a good girl?” On impulse he kissed her forehead, something he’s never done before, but then frowned, putting a back of his hand on her forehead.

“Ah, yes, she’s a teensy bit warm.” Aziraphale put down a mug of coffee before Crowley, who murmured his thanks, and sat back down in the armchair. “It started last night and she cried a bit earlier today. I’m not sure what was wrong, but she stopped an hour ago.”

Crowley took a long look at her and then put his forefinger into her mouth, feeling around her gums until he found a sharp edge. With a sigh of relief, he started massaging the vicinity. “She’s teething,” he explained with a grin to a wide-eyed Aziraphale. “Took her long enough.”

“She’s all right, then? No illness?”

“Nah, I’m not ever sure she can be ill. Never has. So far.”

“She’s not… human? No, of course not. At least not entirely. Honestly, I can’t tell what she is. I tried, but it’s all…”

“A blur?” supplied Crowley.

“Exactly.”

Crowley nodded. Then he looked down on Eve. “Better?” She turned her face slightly up, eyes wide not unlike the angel’s a few moments before, and smiled.

***

Aziraphale watched the whole scene before him, so when the baby smiled at Crowley, he couldn’t miss how the demon’s expression softened. He wasn’t exactly smiling back, but the corners of his mouth weren’t pulled down as usual, the stern lines were gone, and if he could see his eyes, there would be crow’s feet around them, he was sure of it. It was a good look on Crowley. It suited him a great deal.

The angel smiled as well, but his smile had a hint of bitterness. He was glad the demon’s happy, of course he was – the demon deserved it, and much, much more. He, however, couldn’t deny it disappointed him that after everything they have been through, Aziraphale couldn’t claim any credit for Crowley’s happiness. He was aware that he was skirting dangerously close to being prideful and even a bit jealous, but deep down he always expected it would be him, and only him, who would cherish the demon and make him happy. That it would be him, who would take Crowley’s hand and show him he’s wanted, that he’s loved.

Looking at Crowley’s child, he realized it may be a bit late for that. Even so, a tiny part of the angel’s mind whispered to him that it didn’t have to be _that_ late. He’s seen the little girl’s eyes; not exactly blue, nor plain green, but a mix of colours, constantly changing depending on the light. He knew those eyes – he has been looking at them in a mirror for thousands of years. They were so much like his own it felt eerie. It wasn’t that farfetched to imagine Crowley chose a woman with such eyes on purpose – as a kind of reminder. Could _that_ be the actual reason why he chose her, though? If so, maybe he still had a chance.

Aziraphale was done hiding. He had waited, and waited, and waited for something to change, for an opportunity to even just be able to consider his feelings for the demon without being afraid what it could mean for Crowley’s safety. This might be it. It felt somewhat easier now that the child was here. Attainable. With her by his side, it became apparent that no matter what, Crowley was in danger. He had to be aware of that and he still kept her close and took care of her, choosing rather to face the consequences of his choices than to distance himself and pretend.

If Crowley agreed, Aziraphale was prepared to do the same. Just as Crowley would doubtlessly protect Eve, the angel would protect Crowley from everything and everyone who would mean him harm, or die trying. It was quite a shift of Aziraphale’s worldview, but it felt like the only logical one and he accepted it as if he had already subconsciously expected it would eventually come to this.

When Crowley started to get up and pack Eve’s things, Aziraphale decided he had better make some things clear to the demon.

“You realize you’re welcome here, together with the little lady, don’t you?”

Crowley glanced at him warily. “I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Crowley. I much enjoyed reading to her. She’s a good listener and I heard it’s highly recommended reading to children to improve their language skills.” Aziraphale preened with pride that he could show off his newly gained knowledge and that there was something he could help the demon with. “I know that reading is rather difficult for you, so I can do it. If you want, of course.”

It took few seconds, but then Crowley nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

“And,” Aziraphale continued, watching the demon pause in collecting Eve’s stuff, “we could take her for a walk tomorrow. It’s getting warm again, so we could go feed the ducks.” When there was no answer, he hastily added: “Or I could take her and you could rest and get some more sleep.”

The response from Crowley was carefully soft. “You don’t have to do that, angel.”

“I know, my dear. I want to.” He locked his eyes with Crowley, willing his expression to show how he felt, trying to convey that he didn’t want him to carry this burden alone, that he cared and wanted to help. He felt oddly self-conscious, laying himself bare like that in front of the demon, but what was there to be afraid of? He already acknowledged how he felt about the demon and it was time for Crowley to realize it as well. Maybe he wasn’t ready to say it outright, not after years and years of repression, but showing it to him, slowly at the beginning, but steadily and relentlessly, should be enough for now. Even if the answer should be negative in the end, if Crowley no longer felt that way about him, he wanted him to know.

It was difficult to read anything from the demon’s face, even more with the sunglasses hiding his eyes, until finally, when he already thought Crowley would refuse or simply ignore him, the demon nodded again in agreement. Aziraphale’s smile widened, his eyes sparkling. “I could be a godfather!”

That made Crowley chuckle, which – in return – pleased the angel further. It felt as if a heavy weight has been lifted from Aziraphale. And partially, by the looks of it, from Crowley as well.


	11. Chapter 11

Unfortunately, Crowley vetoed stroll in a park, as he didn’t think it would be wise to appear with Eve in public. At least not yet. Once she learned how to walk – and more importantly run – they might try, but it was too soon for that now. Instead, Aziraphale closed the shop and went to Crowley’s flat, or Crowley took Eve and they visited the bookshop.

It was different. With the baby always around, all their interactions had to accommodate to it, and although Crowley seemed fine with it, Aziraphale felt like a fish out of water. He finished all the books about child rearing he had found in his shop and even bought some more, but in the end all the theoretical knowledge wasn’t of much use. The longer he watched the demon, the more it became apparent that whatever he gained from the books just wasn’t the same as the real thing, and sometimes the actual experience was so different from what he had read that it left him wondering whether the information were actually meant to apply to a real child – or if this one was just so atypical. Crowley, on the other hand, always knew what to do, when to do it, and what was good for Eve to do or not do at her age. It must have come with experience, something the angel didn’t have and couldn’t easily obtain right away.

So Aziraphale ended up taking a back seat and observing how Crowley interacted with Eve, hoping to copy it. It was only several months later that he noticed the slow, subtle changes that took place during that time.

At the beginning, when Aziraphale was first witnessing Crowley together with Eve, he couldn’t help but notice that they did not remind him of a family. At least not like the parents and kids he saw in parks and in the streets. Yes, these two lived in one household and Crowley was doing all the necessities he, as a parent, should – feeding her, keeping her safe, keeping her warm, cleaning after her – just like other parents presumably did. He was there for her and he did it all, but seeing it up close like this, it still felt somewhat distant, as if his heart wasn’t in it, however weird that sounded. Sometimes, when he was trying to play with Eve and rose his eyes to the demon sitting a bit to the side, Crowley seemed apprehensive and almost reluctant to be there, as if he’d rather distance himself from it all. Aziraphale didn’t want to judge, but he couldn’t shake off the feeling that it seemed as if there wasn’t any real, deep connection between the two of them. Like Crowley was doing all this not because he wanted to, but because he was forced to do it. Because it was his job.

It bothered the angel and confused him, as he was made to believe that Crowley wasn’t compelled to do this, that he chose to do it, chose to _care._ At that time, he did not have time nor opportunity to question it, as he was desperate to absorb as many information concerning taking care of children from the demon as he possibly could, and whatever he told himself, he was perfectly aware that he was the odd one here. Eve was a part of Crowley’s family, not him. It certainly would be quite obnoxious of him to criticize the demon, when he himself had no experience and knew next to nothing about family ties.

Then, slowly, almost stealthily, it got better. Although there weren’t any substantial changes Aziraphale would be aware of – apart from his own involvement – Crowley’s behaviour started to change. When Aziraphale played with Eve, the demon didn’t just watch them anymore; he started to participate as well, much to her joy. And he was good at it, making Eve laugh all the time, something that Aziraphale managed to achieve only by coincidence. He also talked to her more, telling her stories he may or may not have witnessed or participated in during the centuries. He kissed her head and stroke her fluffy hair while she was napping and held her tiny hands when she was learning to walk. He was playing airplane with her and kissing her scraped knees when she fell and let her sit on his shoulders when they finally got to have a walk outside and Eve got tired.

Aziraphale would smile, his eyes twinkling, but he wouldn’t dare to do half of those things. He couldn’t help but envy the easiness with which Crowley approached her. He kept reading to her though, and she would always sit and listen as if there wasn’t anything more important or interesting than hearing his voice. But no matter how much time he spent with her and Crowley, he was still painfully aware that there was a distance between him and the two of them. His role in Eve’s life was that of a kind uncle at best, and even that was closer than the gap that grew between him and Crowley.

Even though they saw each other very frequently, more than they ever had before in the history, the demon now kept him at arm’s length. He never stayed the night no matter how he or Eve were tired and avoided all Aziraphale’s invitations for lunch, blatantly using her as an excuse. Sometimes, Aziraphale thought he saw sadness in Crowley’s expression when he turned him down yet again, but at this point he couldn’t be sure he didn’t just see what he wanted to see.

Aziraphale racked his brain how to approach the demon in order to show him his intentions. He couldn’t bear the thought that now, when he was finally ready for something to happen, nothing would just because he was too much of a coward to do anything about it. If there still was a chance, if Crowley hadn’t completely given up yet, he would make sure he at least tried.

Subtlety may not have been his strength, judging by his escapades like the Bastille one, but nor was a direct approach. He was aware he wasn’t very good with words when it came to Crowley and what was – or could be – between them. If he were to talk about it with the demon, out loud, he would stutter and lose himself in unnecessarily long explanations, forgetting what he wanted to convey in the first place. Not to mention how mortifying it would be. No, he was sure there had to be another way how to make Crowley notice him again. Aziraphale loved nothing more than having Crowley’s attention, although now he supposed that, with Eve, it wouldn’t be _all_ of his attention, not anymore. Still, he was well aware that the demon would do anything for him. Or, at least, he used to.

Aziraphale hoped that some things never change and made sure there were plenty of opportunities for Crowley to spoil him. Anytime the demon was around, he would complain that he run out of cocoa or that a customer dirtied his favourite carpet, anything, even the most insignificant things, just to get a response from Crowley. And he wasn’t disappointed – the demon did everything Aziraphale wanted him to do, satisfied every last wish the angel had. But that was where his involvement ended.

All of Aziraphale’s tries to flirt with the demon, however awkward they turned out to be, went mostly unacknowledged. Sometimes, it felt as if Crowley would like to play along, his expression open to the suggestion, and Aziraphale dared to hope, dared to _want_. When he took a closer look, he could almost see the response forming in Crowley’s brain, could see the playfulness he missed, oh, so much. The angel’s expectations would get hold of him and he would be able to see his face in the reflection of Crowley’s sunglasses become brighter with eagerness. But then a spark of _something_ would contaminate the demon’s expression and he would catch himself, tighten his jaw and close himself up again.

Still, Aziraphale refused to acknowledge defeat, not now, not when he finally made up his mind about what he wanted. So he kept trying to come up with opportunities for them to meet and continued to invite Crowley for lunches and dinners and drinks, all of which the demon politely but firmly declined.

Until one very late evening, when a telephone rang in a certain bookshop in Soho and the voice on the other end said: “Aziraphale, it’s me. We need to talk.”


	12. Chapter 12

The news wasn’t what Aziraphale would want to hear, but after Gabriel’s visit, he expected it. The Apocalypse was coming and there was little they could do about it, so he spent hours drinking excessively with Crowley instead. Any other day the angel would welcome such an opportunity to meet over a drink with excitement; now, however, as his world threatened to crumble – figuratively, for now – his priorities underwent scrutiny, which led to some changes.

Eleven years were not a lot. Not after residing on Earth for several millennia. Even some of Crowley’s naps were longer than that. The thought that after those mere eleven years he wouldn’t be able to see the demon ever again, or worse – that he would be forced to fight against him in a grand, but completely unnecessary war, filled Aziraphale up with dread that couldn’t be drowned by any amount of spirits.

Crowley didn’t seem to be coping any better. Hours ago, he left Eve upstairs so as not to disturb her, and since then his gaze has paused now and again on the stairs before he downed another glass. Aziraphale watched him with sympathy and sorrow, unable to comfort the demon. He also had come to like the little girl, even though two years was not enough time to get to know her properly. She hadn’t even learned to speak more than few words and most of her talking still sounded like gibberish. To think that she had only eleven more years of life before her was difficult to accept. For Crowley, it had to be unbearable.

In the past, Aziraphale had people that were close to him, and a couple that let him have a few years of their lives, but never anyone who would spend their life with him. The people just appeared and disappeared at random, never staying long enough to make a difference for the angel. They weren’t family, most of them not even friends – just someone he knew, someone he met one day and lost contact with the other. The closest relation, one that when lost would be just as devastating for him as what Crowley would feel if he lost Eve, was the one with the demon himself. It couldn’t be compared, not really; he and Crowley may have known each other since the Garden of Eden, but they were never meant to be friends, not even acquaintances. They were from opposite sides and purely by coincidence (and some deliberate choices on both sides that would not please the higher-ups) ended up here, in the company of each other, and yet not even close enough to acknowledge what they had or could have.

Eve was different. She was Crowley’s family, the closest direct connection he’s ever had. Angels were supposed to be one big family, whatever Aziraphale’s opinion about it was, but Hell surely wasn’t and as far as the angel knew, Crowley did not have any friends or even a close colleague there. Based on what the demon sometimes told him, it was just as well. But now, after years of being alone, he finally had someone, some other living being that he could call his own. Aziraphale was glad for it on his behalf, and only wished he himself could become the same.

Even now Aziraphale couldn’t help but want it. Even if it was only for the upcoming eleven years, even if he knew from the start that it wouldn’t last, he still wouldn’t even hesitate if offered the chance to become somewhat closer to the demon. He knew it was selfish of him, and especially that he was thinking about it now, when the whole Earth and all its people were at stake. As if that itself wasn’t enough, there was a danger that Crowley’s baby girl could be among them. He loved her, Aziraphale was sure of that, and if they wouldn’t be able to think of something to stop the Apocalypse, he would lose her just like he would lose the angel. One person is horrible enough, but losing two?

He looked at the demon, who was just pouring himself another glass of wine before downing it again, clearly determined to get even more drunk, fast. He was always the more optimistic one from the two of them, but right now he looked downright miserable. It was, well, not unexpected, but intriguing, maybe? It never occurred to Aziraphale that Crowley might love the Earth as much as him; he always thought that the demon was here, because he had nothing better to do and it’s easier to deal with the Down Below, when he’s not stuck there. From the look of it, that was not the case.

Crowley must have been content being here, among people that he knew how to approach far easier than the angel could ever hope to. Did he have friends here? Aziraphale had no idea; if so, he never met them.

At this, Aziraphale’s alcohol-influenced brain sent his train of thoughts down the path he was trying to avoid.

Just like he never met any of Crowley’s partners. There must have been some people, surely. Most of them would be dead by now, but at least one was still out there. Eve’s mother. Crowley said she wasn’t dead. Well, not yet, but if the Apocalypse was coming, it won’t take long.

Aziraphale frowned how his thoughts took a turn to rather dark tones.

Will Crowley miss her? Did he miss her now? Why did they split up? Why wasn’t he with her?

“Who?”

Crowley’s words roused Aziraphale from his thoughts. “Huh?”

“You ask’d why he wasn’t with her. Who?”

For a second, Aziraphale couldn’t remember what he was thinking about, but then it came back to him. “You, why aren’t you with her. It’s – it’s the end of the world, you should be with her.”

“’S not, we ssstill have ‘leven years to stop it.” Then he frowned. “With who? Eve?”

“Her mother.”

The demon slid his palm down his face. “Aauugrh, couldya stop it?”

“I mean, there isn’t much time. I don’t want you to regret it.”

“Not gonna happen.”

“Crowley, be reasonable.”

“Shut it.”

“At least do it for the child. She will want to meet her mother.”

“You don’t know wha’ you’re talkin’ about, angel.”

Suddenly, something in Aziraphale just snapped. He could easily blame it on alcohol – he had had a spectacular amount of it already – but that wouldn’t be entirely accurate. “Because you haven’t told me! How was I to know you had a – a mistress. I thought–“ He caught himself, embarrassed that he gave in to his own insecurities. This wasn’t what he should be saying out loud. Some things should stay in his thoughts, never to be let out in the open. He averted his eyes, unable to look at the demon any longer, and continued more quietly: “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Possessive, are we?”

He knew it was Crowley’s attempt to throw him off, to change the topic away from something he did not want to discuss, but he flinched all the same. To his ears it sounded as if the demon didn’t care how he felt and what this conversation would do to him, and that dismissal hurt. Aziraphale was aware he was being unreasonable and that he had no right to blame Crowley, but he couldn’t help it. He had a bad day – just found out about the Apocalypse, had few more drinks than he should have, and his thoughts were currently trying really hard to make his day a notch worse. That was just a bit too much, even for him.

“So what if I am? I’m not a shining example of an angel, you think I’m not aware of that? I’m often told I don’t work hard enough, that I’m not strict enough or thorough enough. I’m wasting my time with reading and other pointless human activities when I should be out there, influencing people to be better. And I tried, believe me, I did. I did everything they wanted me to do, witnessed every punishment no matter how much I thought it was undeserved, did every single blessing I should and hundred, thousands more. I’ve been persuading people to choose the good side in them for centuries and some do; some choose to do the right thing and avoid terrible consequences, and some have a miracu- micaru- very lucky escape from a tragic fate and then I feel like I’m the good guy. But it still isn’t good enough. _I’m_ not good enough.”

“Azira-”

“’m not done!” he shifted restlessly in the armchair and few drops of wine sloshed from the glass he was holding. “I- we were through a great deal here. We share the same experience, one that nobody else has. They think they know how it is down here, but they have _no idea_. They just think they do, acting all high’n’mighty, strutting around in their tailored suits and polished shoes, pretending that they know everything about humanity, when they don’t know one whit. What was I talking about? Oh, yes! We-we’ve been here the whole time and we know each other, and, and I, for one, do think of you as a-as-as an old fellow. I know I shouldn’t,” he lifted his hand in calming gesture as if he was trying to persuade his opponents that everything is in order. “I can’t help it. It’s just another of my weaknesses. Even after all Sandalphon and the others were telling us about your kind, I cannot see you as anything other than – well, you.”

He stared at the demon before him, willing himself to see a dangerous, sadistic demon full of lies and temptations before whom he would need to be on guard. But there was only Crowley, his hereditary enemy and adversary. And also his partner in crime, who saved him time and time again when he foolishly got himself into trouble. Who spoiled him with gifts and little services without wanting anything in return. Who was going for walks with him, who fed ducks with him, who took him to galleries and theatres and restaurants without actually eating anything himself.

And at that moment he was sure that Crowley could easily recognize the feelings radiating from his eyes and his whole being. He was overwhelmed by them and feared a little he would burst from the sheer amount of them.

“For years, I’ve been thinking about what to do, carefully considering all the options. I still do sometimes, but I can’t- there’s no way- “

Crowley hurriedly started to say: “I know, angel, I know, you don’t hafta-“ only to be interrupted by Aziraphale again.

“No, no, no, you don’t understand. I decided. I’m done waiting for something that won’t happen. I don’t think that either side will just change their mind about each other out of nowhere. No, if there’s no time, I won’t waste any more of it.” He straightened his posture and put the now almost empty glass on the table before him. When he looked at Crowley across from him, even in his state he could clearly see that the demon was dumbfounded. Confused. A little bit hopeful. And more than a little scared.

He let his gaze roam over the familiar face, over the sharp jawline framed by unruly red hair, over the slightly opened lips and the tiniest glimpse of the lower teeth, over the warm yellow eyes, not entirely filling in the white parts, not yet. “I don’t want the world to end without you knowing that you’re loved.”

As he watched, Crowley shrank back as if recoiling from being burnt. “Asssiraphale, don’t!”

”It’s alright, my dear. I made my peace with going against the tide, so to speak. I cannot continue deceiving myself that I approve of Heaven’s attitude and believe their way of thinking.”

All the remaining colour disappeared from Crowley’s face. “Sstop it, angel, that’s blasphemy!”

Aziraphale only shook his head. “No, I don’t think it is. See, I still have my faith. But it’s faith in Her, not in Heaven. I wouldn’t go against Her will, but Gabriel and the others? I don’t think that their actions and way of thinking are compliant with Hers. There _has_ to be some misunderstanding. She wouldn’t want to create the Earth and all the people only to destroy them.” He could see that Crowley wanted to concur, probably by arguing that She had come close in the past, but he didn’t let him. Instead, he leaned over the table and careful not to startle the demon, he slowly grasped his hand with his own. “And I can’t imagine She would be against something as essential and as pure as love.”

***

Always so carefully arranged thoughts in Crowley’s mind lost any resemblance of order and scattered all over the place, chaotically overlapping, making it impossible to focus on any of them. He could only stare at the hand laying over his own, unsuccessfully trying to make any sense of it, of any of what happened tonight. All the muscles in his limbs tensed and creeping icy coldness started to spread from his chest to the rest of his body as he desperately wanted his brain to think of something, to explain to him how he got here, to give him any advice what to do next; but there was only the unending loop of _oh shit_ and _what?!_ and neither was very helpful at the moment.

Over the annoying noise in his head, Crowley became aware that it’s quiet in the room and that the angel was probably waiting for some kind of response, so he squeezed out the only thing that was safe enough to say at the moment: “Don’t.” It took him by surprise how tiny it sounded to his ears, almost broken. Pathetic.

Sitting opposite him, Aziraphale shifted and leaned a bit lower while looking up as if trying to catch the demon’s gaze, which was still settled on their joined hands. Some other time, Crowley would be overjoyed by the angel’s closeness and apparent interest, but right now it was too much. He still wanted it, more than ever, but he wasn’t ready. He wasn’t even sure if he’d ever be ready. Ironic, considering that it was Aziraphale who first uttered the words about him going too fast. And completely irrelevant, because once Aziraphale learned Crowley’s secrets – and he will – there wouldn’t be even a trace of relationship for the demon to pursue. So much has changed in the last years; lines that weren’t supposed to be disturbed were crossed, boundaries that weren’t to be questioned were overstepped, and mistakes that couldn’t be remediated were made. Crowley couldn’t imagine Aziraphale would even want to talk to him ever again. Considering, of course, that he wouldn’t simply smite him. Crowley felt he deserved it, and the thought filled him equally with dread and hopeless acceptance. With every passing moment, it became more and more apparent that it won’t be possible to ignore the internal turmoil any longer. He really regretted throwing his sunglasses somewhere – on the sofa maybe? – right now they would give him at least some resemblance of protection.

“I realized that me being here, on Earth, is deeply connected with you. You were here the whole time, almost from the very beginning. Every memory either has you in it, or me wondering what you would say if you were there. I think about the construction of the pyramids and all I see is you persuading workers to slack off while the supervisors don’t look. Or when the Mongolians wanted to invade Japan and you gave the Korean slaves advices how to sabotage their ships. When I think of my bookshop, I remember the opening day when you brought me chocolates and flowers to celebrate with me. And when I remember the First World War, I remember how relieved I was that you didn’t have to be there to see it. You are everywhere in my memory. It wouldn’t be the same without you.”

He might have left them in the kitchen corner when he fetched the last bottle.

“I don’t want to imagine it – life without you.”

Would it be rude to go look for them?

“I’m sorry it took me so long. I should have said something sooner.”

Maybe it would be easier to just miracle them on? Why does he have the spares in the Bentley, anyway? Why not a pair in his pocket? Oh, tiny pockets, right. Damn, he hated this idea of his. He really didn’t think this one through.

Wait, why was it so quiet all of the sudden?

Crowley looked up, before he could stop himself. He found himself gazing right into a pair of familiar eyes, looking hazel in this light, watching him with sadness.

“Am I too late?”

Crowley held perfectly still, long since getting sober again, desperately trying to force his features into an emotionless mask, and was yet to blink. Aziraphale also tried not to, but couldn’t help it in the end. Finally, he looked away, but not before Crowley noticed his eyes getting all watery. He pulled his hand away as well, and Crowley didn’t realize how good it felt, anchoring him to the moment until it was gone. With a vague sense of loss, he was left watching a false humourless smile to appear on the angel’s face. It bothered Crowley how wrong it looked, when it didn’t reach anywhere near his eyes.

“I wanted to tell you before you went to sleep those three years ago. It’s a pity we didn’t meet. But it was already too late at that time as well, wasn’t it?”

He could just stay silent. It was an option that he realized he could choose. A tempting one. Let Aziraphale think that he didn’t feel the same anymore. Let him think he gave up, that a mere demon like him wasn’t capable of making his feelings last, that he wasn’t worth the risk. Aziraphale would mope around for a while, but he would be safe. And he would get over it, eventually. It would be a sensible solution, for both of them. Less hurtful in the long run, when Apocalypse comes and everything will go to shit.

And yet he couldn’t help himself but yearn for all that could be. For centuries he wanted and needed and hoped, and he still did, even now, even after everything, he still couldn’t just let it go. He may choose to restrain himself from acting out, but he wasn’t able to hide it, never has been.

“We did.” A confession. Only two words, said quietly as if not to disturb the fragile tension in the air.

With hopeless resignation he watched as the utter desolation in the angel’s eyes was slowly changing into confusion. “Beg your pardon?”

Crowley braced himself. It was time. “We did meet. That day, three years ago. We met for lunch and then we went here to drink some more.”

Aziraphale frowned, trying, and failing, to remember. He slowly shook his head. “No–“

“We did, angel. We sat right here, drinking that-that Pinot you got as a thank-you gift from your neighbour. You talked about a Japanese guy you met here in London in 1900 and who became a well-known writer back in Japan later – he wrote something about a cat or something. And then you got peckish and wanted sushi, so I ordered some for you from the place two blocks away you like so much and you spent the rest of the evening praising me like I was some bloody saint.”

No recognition appeared on Aziraphale’s face, only more confusion. “I-I’m sorry, my dear. I don’t seem to remember any of it.”

Crowley’s eyes shut close. “’Course you don’t. You can’t.” He didn’t dare to open them again. Instead he depended on his hearing, listening for any noise the angel might let out that would tell him what was happening. There was nothing; no movement at all. “I’m sorry, Aziraphale. I had to make sure you didn’t remember.”

Moment of silence, before an incredulous “Didn’t remember praising you?” can be heard.

Crowley would laugh, if it wasn’t so serious. Aziraphale must have opted for staying drunk, at least a little bit. Good for him. The demon forced himself to open his eyes again, but lowered his gaze to the table before him, taking in all the empty or almost empty bottles gathered there. All of a sudden, he felt tired. “No; didn’t remember what came after. I erased it.”

It was finally out, at least a part of it, but Crowley did not feel any better. Throughout the history, he did some pretty bad things and some of his temptations ended in quite a horrible manner that he preferred not to think about, even if it meant spending afternoons in alcohol-induced haze or sleeping for far too long. Keeping secrets from Aziraphale felt much the same, and more than few times he regretted it was not possible to take it all back. Generally, he was all for lying and misleading, the more the merrier, but that didn’t apply when Aziraphale was involved. He didn’t deserve to be lied to and ever since they met, back in the Garden, Crowley refrained from lying to him, about anything. He was always convinced he wouldn’t do that to the angel, no matter what, not ever.

It turned out he wasn’t the person he thought he was, after all. He sat there, whishing he could disappear, and his cheeks burned with shame, while his chest felt like ice. There was no excuse to what he’d done, no apology good enough to make it better. If there was any possibility to turn back time, if he could somehow change what happened and return to the life before, he wouldn’t hesitate, not for a second.

“Wha-you erased… you took my memories of that evening?!” There it was – the hurt in Aziraphale’s voice that Crowley dreaded.

“I had to. To keep you safe.”

“Safe from what?” Anger this time. Feeling angry was at least better than being hurt, but Crowley didn’t fool himself – Aziraphale was both angry and hurt. And he was the one responsible for this. Always causing trouble, this one, ever since he crawled up on the surface of Earth and even before that, judging by not being a Heaven’s employee any longer. He deserved all of the angel’s anger, for what he’d done was unforgivable.

“Save from me. You would have fallen.” And it would have been his fault, always his fault.

“What are you talking about, Crowley? What happened?”

“I tempted you.” He sounded hollow and felt the same. As if some part of him was ripped away from him that left him empty and bleeding. He curled up even more into himself, tightly hugging his midsection almost like he was trying to hold pieces of himself together. “I’m sorry, angel. I didn’t mean for it to happen, I-I just… I’m really sssorry, it was my fault. When I realized, I-I panicked and made you forget it, hoping that you can’t Fall for sssomething you didn’t remember. I didn’t want you to go through that. Not becausse of me.”

There was a short pause, before Aziraphale found his voice again. “Crowley. Crowley, look at me. What happened?” It was full of forced patience and the demon hated it. He didn’t need the angel to try to be the reasonable one; he wanted him to get angry, to shout at him, to blame him just as he blamed himself. He wouldn’t be surprised if Aziraphale just walked away from him. That’s what he deserved anyway.

Another wave of shame rolled over him, so he lowered his head even more and hid his face into his hands. “I-I-I can’t! Don’t make me ssay it, please, angel, I’m sssorry.” His voice all but broke at the end, but he didn’t care. His head was a mess and he just wanted it to be over.

Aziraphale sighed. “It’s alright, my dear. Well, it is not _all_ right, I am cross with you for taking my memories without my permission and I will have a stern word with you about it later. But, to get back to the topic on hand, I am sure that whatever I did that night, I had a reason for it. Not to downplay your abilities, you’re a wonderful demon, full of ehm, evil a-and, uh, wiles, but I seriously doubt that you could tempt me to do anything I wouldn’t do in the first place.” When Crowley didn’t say anything, he added: “Could you at least tell me, which of the deadly sins did I supposedly commit under your influence?”

The demon just shook his head.

“I’m just curious. Humour me.”

Absolute silence stretched between them and it must have been at least a minute before Crowley mumbled something.

Aziraphale leaned closer, curious. “What was that?”

“…lust.”

“Oh.” If Crowley had been watching, he could have seen that Aziraphale’s mouth turned into a perfect O-shape. Then the angel sat back, still taken aback by the answer, but trying to process it. “Oh well, that, that is … unexpected. Right, well, uh, I am positively confident you wouldn’t make me, erm, seduce someone–”

At that moment, the demon raised his head, incredulous look in his eyes, but before he could open his mouth, Aziraphale continued.

“And _I_ wouldn’t let someone else to seduce me if I didn’t already have a romantic inclination to the person prior to that – don’t look at me like that, Crowley, I know myself good enough to be quite sure of it. So whatever happened, I do believe that it was deliberate and fully consensual on my side. Which means that the-the _actions_ were done out of love, not lust. There’s no reason for me to Fall, certainly not because I chose to love someone.”

His cheeks turned a nice shade of pink. “Even if that someone is a demon.”

Crowley stared. The words he had just heard repeated themselves in his mind and he felt like his brain overloaded and unceremoniously shut down. He had to push this information, this confession, away for the time being and only then his brain restarted itself. Carefully avoiding thinking about this, he tried to remember the night in as much detail as possible, something he forbade himself to do until now, but it was a blur. He knew _what_ happened, but couldn’t recall _why_ and what led to it. If what Aziraphale was saying was truth and he did come to terms with whatever the relation between them was… He could have felt the same (or he could have been too drunk). He could have been ready that night (or Crowley may have been a tad too persuasive). He may have acted on his own (or he could have done exactly what Crowley wanted him to do). But what if he was telling the truth? What if he was wrong?

All of a sudden, he felt uncertain and an annoying spark of hope burst to life, warming the hollowness inside him, but Crowley was careful to keep it contained. He wouldn’t let himself be lulled into a false sense of security. He didn’t deserve it. He was a known tempter after all and it was easier to believe he pushed too far than that Aziraphale could accept his feelings and reciprocate them. Whatever this was what the angel was doing, it will only hurt him in the end, Crowley was sure of it.

“I mean it, dearest. I’ve known for some time, but it took me a while to accept it. If I-if we-” The pink on the angel’s cheeks turned a few shades darker. “If what I think happened happened, if what we did was just a-a carnal pleasure, which could be punishable by the Fall, I think I would have Fallen already, whether I remember doing it or not. And I am still here, Crowley, see?” Aziraphale opened his arms to show that it was still him, sitting in the backroom of his bookshop, as angelic as ever.

He was right, of course. It sounded logically, presented like that. Hard to believe that the angel would finally, after six thousand years, allow Crowley to pursue a relationship and, more importantly, would allow himself to accept it, sure, but not entirely impossible. And yet Crowley had doubts. It was just too good to be true and no matter what Aziraphale claimed he knew, he simply could not know what happened. He had no memory of it.

Crowley’s thoughts must have shown on his face, for Aziraphale’s expression fell for a moment before he caught himself. “I know it is somewhat sudden–”

Crowley snorted.

“– and difficult to process. Do you think it would be possible to restore the memory to where it was? I could show you that it did not happen just because you thought you tempted me. I’m sure it’s all there.”

But the demon shook his head. Not that he was unable to do it – if he could take it away, he would be able to bring it back, probably, but in order to do that, he would have to believe there was a way to do that and not face potential consequences. Was there such a possibility, in this world, for the two of them? If, by any chance, Aziraphale was wrong in his theory and restoring the memory would trigger some celestial trial, they would lose everything and he himself would be alive just long enough to regret ever emerging from the pool of boiling sulphur.

Aziraphale looked a bit disappointed, but immediately continued where he left off as if it was of no importance. “No? That’s a pity. Well, we will have to make new ones, then.” His eyes were trained on Crowley, who froze. “If-if you’re interested, obviously. I don’t want to pressure you into anything you wouldn’t want to do.”

By now, Crowley was pretty sure that he’s either in the middle of some prank and that Beelzebub or Gabriel or whoever will show themselves and laugh at him before capturing him and sending him to his death, or hallucinating. It sort of reminded him of the 60’s and his first meetings with recreational drugs, although now there were far less colours around. “What?!”

Surprisingly, Aziraphale squirmed in his seat. “I would understand if you have other… associations…” When he got a blank look, he added: “Well, there’s still the child’s mother after all. I mean–”

Crowley’s stomach dropped. The evening just kept getting worse and it apparently wasn’t anywhere near over yet. It was just Crowley’s luck – to have all the bloody secrets exposed in one go, causing irreparable damage. He knew it would come to this, eventually, but he foolishly thought that he had more time to enjoy it while it lasted. Too late for that. This was a good enough opening. If Crowley was set to destroy what little trust there was between them, he may as well do it all the way and not let Aziraphale wonder how much of a lying bastard he was dealing with. He took a deep breath, eyes firmly on the angel’s knees, and went for the kill. “There isn’t any mother; it was just me. I delivered Eve. In literary sense this time.”

Aziraphale was speechless. He opened his mouth, closed it again and repeated the process before squeezing out: “You?! Then, uh- all right… congratulations are in order, I assume,” he tried to smile, but it turned out sour, so he quickly dismissed it. “Not a woman, then. A man– “

Crowley interrupted him, determined to get it all out before he breaks down. “No man, either. It’s just you. It’s always been you.”

“But–” Aziraphale fell silent, thinking. He was always the intelligent one and he proved himself once again. The moment he figured it out, he paled, his eyes widening. “You mean– ?”

Crowley avoided his stare and dropped the next bomb. “She’s yours.”


	13. Chapter 13

The backroom of the bookshop was silent. Not that it was empty – there were two beings sitting amongst a number of wine bottles in various stages of being emptied – just eerily quiet with strange tension in the air. Neither of them was drinking, not trusting themselves to touch the glasses now. They just sat there, lost in their own thoughts, avoiding looking at the other.

Just few minutes – or was it hours? – ago Aziraphale fretted that he would scare Crowley by his confession, or put him in an awkward position, but as it turned out, he was the one taken completely aback by the development. To say it was a lot to digest for one evening was an understatement. After Crowley’s last words, they both fell silent. It was too much to take in, for both of them, so when Eve’s voice suddenly echoed from upstairs, it gave them an excuse they both needed. Crowley hurriedly slipped away from the room without even glancing at the angel.

Aziraphale stayed in his armchair, in a weird stupor that had nothing to do with the wine standing long forgotten before him. For years he was considering how to convey to Crowley how he felt about him. For years he was afraid of so many things like rejection, being told it’s too late, or Heaven finding out before he even had a chance to do something about it. And it turned out that he already had had his opportunity, that he had gone through it once already, working up his nerves to confess his feelings that any other angel would consider at the very least undesirable, even scandalous. Only he didn’t remember it, which was basically the same as if it hadn’t happened. It did, though, must have, if Crowley says so. His past self had to be brave enough to say something and was rewarded with an opportunity to- what? Love Crowley openly? Touch him? Let his hands slide down his arms? Circle his upper body in a hug? Slip his fingers through his hair?

Kiss him?

Aziraphale shivered. He wanted this, all of this, for Go- who knows how long. He told Crowley that, didn’t he? If so, he must have done a poor job conveying it, because once they started talking about the night three years ago, he could clearly see Crowley’s distress that shouldn’t be there. Not if they both wanted it to happen. At the time he had no idea what caused it, but the poor demon lost all colour and Aziraphale noticed his hands shook before he hid them.

Surely, that evening he must have told him _something_. According to Crowley, they did end up having intimate contact, so there must have been a conversation preceding it, right? If there was, it didn’t leave any impression on Crowley, who apparently believed he was the sole cause of it happening in the first place. That he somehow tempted Aziraphale into letting his guard down. That he made him _do_ things he wouldn’t want to do otherwise. 

Crowley wouldn’t do that, though, of course he wouldn’t; he knew the demon well enough to be absolutely sure of it. It was far more likely that Crowley himself would get hurt before he let anything happen to Aziraphale. As far as the angel’s memory went, Crowley was nothing but considerate and patient with him throughout the years, and there wasn’t any indication that it should change any time soon. He wouldn’t pressure him into anything like that no matter the circumstances.

To think that he had lived three years blaming himself for something he wasn’t responsible for and Aziraphale was right there, oblivious to his suffering… He didn’t even want to imagine how hard it must have been for the demon, thinking he made the angel do something against his will, thinking he forced him to submit to his own desires.

Aziraphale shuddered. No, that wouldn’t do. He couldn’t let him think that any longer than he already had. He will need to speak with Crowley again and reassure him that he didn’t do anything wrong. That nothing that happened was his fault.

Aziraphale stood up and headed to the kitchen corner rather than the kitchen upstairs to give Crowley and himself some space. No more wine tonight, but a cup of tea wouldn’t be a bad idea. He poured water into the kettle and put it on the stove automatically, still lost in his thoughts.

In the light of these new information, it was understandable that Crowley chose rather to hide in his sleep than face him. And what about Eve? If what Crowley said was truth and he did give birth to her, Aziraphale felt enormous respect for him. He saw many pregnant humans and few times he was even present nearby during the process of delivering, but the specifics were vague at best in his mind. Crowley must have been extremely brave, more so that he was probably left to take care of it all alone.

A fleeting image of Crowley – alone, scared, and tired – flashed before his eyes. He had to be hiding from Hell the whole time. They wouldn’t be exactly keen to congratulate him if they found him in that state, regardless of whether they knew about Aziraphale’s role in it or not. It wouldn’t bear to think what they would have done to Crowley and the baby. No, it was obvious the demon wouldn’t trust anybody with this. It stung to realize he didn’t trust even him, Aziraphale, to be there. The angel closed his eyes. No, that wasn’t right; he didn’t trust himself to be able to be around Aziraphale. Not after _that_.

He put his hand on his chest and took a few deep breaths, trying to ease the tightness inside. He should have been there.

_She’s yours._

If only he had been more clear with Crowley, if he had told him that night how he felt in no uncertain terms, so that the demon would have no reason to do something as stupid as erasing his memories, Crowley wouldn’t have gone to sleep and Aziraphale would have known about the pregnancy. He could have been there for the demon, support him and help him through it (or maybe panic a lot and be absolutely useless, which was far more probable).

Another thought struck Aziraphale, leaving him feeling cold all over. Did Crowley even have any say in this? Or did he simply wake up too late to do anything about it? It was apparent the demon loved children, sure, but did he want one of his own? Did he regret it? Especially if he thought that she was a result of him taking advantage of another person? Was he reminded of his supposed tempting every time he looked at her?

Aziraphale wasn’t sure if there was any resemblance between him and Eve, he never noticed such things, unless they were extremely obvious. And she was too small to recognize any prominent features. Except for the eyes, of course. They were his eyes after all; not just similar, not a look-alike, but the same, changing colours depending on, well, anything, really.

She was his; his and Crowley’s. She had something from both of them, a mix of an angel and a demon. No wonder he couldn’t place her when he studied her with his senses. She wasn’t anything known until now, at least as far as Aziraphale was aware. She was _different_ , defying the categories, the only one of a kind. Suddenly, he was really glad he had the chance to be by her side, to be a part of her life. Not from the very beginning, sadly, but early enough for the little girl to grow accustomed to him. 

The water finally boiled, so he poured it over teabags in two mugs and went to grab milk from the fridge that happily created just the right temperature even though it wasn’t even plugged in. A smell of his tea mixed with Crowley’s lemon balm one, instantly soothing his anxiety from the prospect of continuing their little chat. Best to talk it through as soon as possible, because if he let Crowley dwell on it for too long, the wounds he had been carrying would just get worse and fester, resulting in completely avoidable disaster, probably followed by another period of separation. The demon was probably beating himself up even now, if the waves of anxiety and guilt rolling down from his flat were anything to go by.

Once his tea was steeped enough, Aziraphale added milk and sugar and with both mugs headed upstairs.

He found Crowley in his bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed where Eve was settling down to go back to sleep. He waited until Crowley looked at him and wordlessly showed him the steaming mugs, mouthing _I’ll be in the living room_. Crowley just nodded and turned back to the girl.

Aziraphale didn’t have to wait long.

The demon slipped with obvious reluctance into the room, grabbed a black mug obviously intended for him, and sat at the farther corner of the soft, antique sofa. While usually sprawled all over whatever sitting spot, now, with one knee drawn up to his chest, Crowley looked like he was trying to take as little space as possible. Sniffing the sweet smell, he took a sip of his tea nursed in both of his hands. There was an uneasy silence between the two beings, but neither was too keen to disturb it. Finally, after drinking half of his tea, Crowley spoke up.

“We’ll go, if you want.” He tried to sound unconcerned, but didn’t quite make it. “Maybe if you could wait till morning – she’s just fallen asssleep. Or not. Now’s fine too. Whatever you like, an-Aziraphale.”

The angel noticed the hesitation at the end of the sentence and didn’t like it one bit. “There’s no need for that. It’s my pleasure to have you both here.”

“’M sure ‘tis,” mumbled Crowley under his breath, but sipped his tea nonetheless.

Aziraphale put his winged mug down and turned in his seat to face the demon, determined to finally clear this mess. “I think we started off on the wrong foot here, my dear. Let me try again.” He paused for a moment, trying – and failing – to think up how to phrase what he wanted to say. In the end, he decided to just go on and hope for the best. “I am aware I haven’t given you much to work with in the past, but I still hope you know I care about you. And – if you forgive me my boldness - I suspect that you feel the same towards me. To be honest, it scared me. Not–“ he hurried to add, “the-the fact itself – on the contrary, it’s extremely flattering – but what consequences it may have. For you. I thought I’m doing the right thing, keeping you at distance.”

Aziraphale watched Crowley’s profile for any reaction, but the demon just kept staring into his mug. “Then I realized that there is no simple solution to our problem, no way out, and we’re just blundering around hurting each other, and if we don’t do anything about it, nothing will ever change. So I started to entertain the thought that maybe we could try, that we can risk it, be discreet about it and keep an eye on any danger. That it would be worth it, rather than never have the chance. That’s when the evening happened. I should have discussed it with you, but I apparently didn’t and I apologize.”

When the demon still didn’t react, Aziraphale slid closer, his reaching hand left suspended in the air, hesitating if he should risk touching Crowley. Then he decided against it. “I cannot show you any proof, but I hope you will believe me, when I say I wanted everything and anything that happened as much as you did.”

“Yeah, I‘m sure forgettin’ the whole evening was the highlight of your day.” Crowley’s voice was more like a croak. “Shoulda tried the same.”

Aziraphale suspected it was supposed to be sarcastic, but it was hard to tell. It sounded rough enough to be genuine. After everything he said, the demon evidently still wasn’t ready to let his guilt go. Maybe if he changed his tactic, if he tried arguing…

“Maybe you got it wrong,” he said slowly. “Maybe it was the other way around. I wanted something to change, so maybe _I_ made the move. Knowing you would do anything for me – as I was sure you would - it could have been _me_ , who tempted _you-_ ”

“Don’t be stupid!”

Aziraphale pretended to look all confused, blinking innocently. “You don’t believe I could do such a thing? Make you do as I please? For all I know, I wanted it, so I coaxed you-”

“Shut it, angel! You didn’t do anything – it was all me.” Finally, Crowley turned his eyes to him, a challenge written in them. For all the anger that he tried to lace his words in, his hands were shaking again. Aziraphale reached for the demon’s mug, carefully prying it from those long bony fingers, and Crowley let him. He put it on the coffee table and reached for the shaking hands, taking them into his own at last. The demon shivered, averting his eyes again.

“See, I don’t believe that. That doesn’t mean I don’t believe _you_ , because I do, but I think that either your perception of that evening is somewhat distorted, or you took all the blame onto yourself.”

“I’m not a bloody martyr!” Crowley growled, but there was no fight in it.

“No, you’re not, my dear, and I don’t want you to be one.” Aziraphale squeezed the demon’s hands in his own. “Consequences of my actions are mine, and only mine to bear. I wanted to be with you that night and I had been – for few years, actually – seriously considering proposing to make some changes to our- to what we had. Whether it was you or me who actually made the first step is irrelevant as we both went with it without any complaints, isn’t that right?” He was watching Crowley’s expression, seeking confirmation, but the demon didn’t offer any. Aziraphale let out a sigh. “It might have been a bit unexpected, considering I was thinking about a- well, more gradual progress with far more time spent adjusting to, ah, new possibilities, but the direction was the same. We would have got there, eventually, so what does it matter if it was a bit faster than anticipated? I wanted it to happen, I swear to you, my dear, I did.”

Aziraphale lifted Crowley’s hands to his face and softly kissed one – just a slight touch of his lips, barely even there – and then the other. “I still do.”

A sharp inhale echoed through the room, but Aziraphale wasn’t done just yet.

“I dreamt about all the things I want to experience with you. I spent months sitting downstairs, imagining these little moments of you and me spending time together. Like relaxing together on the sofa with a good wine. Holding hands during a theatre play. Snuggling under a shared blanket with hot cocoa in winter. These kinds of things.” He didn’t know when he started to stroke the back of Crowley’s hands in half-circles with his thumbs, trying to be soothing and comforting, but it seemed appropriate.

And if he was to be honest, it felt pretty good. He spent the next few moments just sliding his thumbs over the demon’s skin decorated with raised veins, tendons, and contours of bones protruding through it, creating a landscape that was yet to be explored. Aziraphale tried to make his touch as soft as possible, sometimes barely ghosting over the skin than actually touching it, savouring the feeling that it made Crowley shiver.

“I want to spend more time with you. Hear more of your stories. Or just be with you in the same room, without any interaction, just existing next to each other. Existing together. And sometimes,” Aziraphale paused, his concentration momentarily lost. If Crowley lifted his eyes, he would notice that the angel was gazing at his lips, drawn to them like a moth to a light bulb, yet desperately resisting. “Sometimes I can’t think of anything else but you.”

The snake eyes, now expanded to full yellow bordering on orange at the corners, flicked upwards, helpless and desperate, and there was a low sound that could be a sob, but Crowley would never admit to it.

They sat next to each other, close, but not close enough to touch. Their hands remained the only point of contact between them.

“I think about your kindness that almost no one gets to see, because most of it is aimed at me. Don’t think I haven’t noticed it – you, helping me and giving me what I want, time and time again. Indulging me even if I don’t deserve it. Spoiling me without receiving anything in return. I cannot express how grateful I am that you chose a dull angel like me.”

Crowley slightly shook his head, eyes averted again, but Aziraphale could see a pale splash of pink decorating the demon’s cheeks.

“I think about your devotion; not giving up on me no matter how much I hurt you. I never mean to, but I have, multiple times, I know and I’m not proud of it, but I can’t take it back; I can only try to make it up to you and do my penance.”

He was still watching Crowley’s face as he continued, willing him to believe it.

“I think about your selflessness. Always being aware of my needs and putting them above yours. Adjusting your plans to fit mine. You think I don’t know you did more of my work than I did yours?”

Aziraphale moved closer, just an inch or two, just enough to made their thighs and knees touch. There’s no sound from the demon this time and as the angel watched him, he realized that Crowley was holding his breath.

“I think about your eyes, almost always hidden behind those glasses, but occasionally peaking over them, so warm and striking, piercing right through me. Breathtaking.”

The said eyes flicked to his face and flashed momentarily with an emotion that the angel didn’t recognize, before lowering to their joined hands.

“I think about your hair, so unruly if you let them. I’ve witnessed them in hundreds of shapes and lengths and I never tire of seeing them. I can only imagine how perfect they would look spread over a pillow next to me.”

Crowley’s hands involuntarily flexed. The angel squeezed back.

“I think about your cheekbones, so sharp, just like the rest of you. It seems you’re all just sharpness and angles and I have nothing but admiration for it.”

Aziraphale let one of Crowley’s hands go and reached up towards the demon’s face. He stopped inches from it and asked: “May I?” After a few terrifying seconds, when Aziraphale was already dreading he went too far, there was a slight nod as if the demon was unsure. The angel waited a moment longer and then he carefully, oh so carefully, touched Crowley’s cheek. First with the tips of his fingers only, trying it out, testing if it was okay.

The demon didn’t give him time to adjust, or worse – have second thoughts – and immediately leaned into the touch as if he was starving for it until now. Aziraphale took a second to overcome the surprise and then lightly stroke the cheekbone he was talking about moments before with his thumb. It made Crowley shiver again, and he closed his eyes, but nuzzled further into the hand, making the angel smile.

Aziraphale left his hand there and continued with his soft confessions.

“I think about the freckles that pepper your shoulders when you’re on the sun for too long. I haven’t seen them for a long while and I would very much like to rediscover them again someday, if you let me.”

A slight crease appeared between Crowley’s eyebrows, but he kept his eyes closed, not agreeing, nor disagreeing with Aziraphale. His head made tiny movements, almost as if against his will, softly rubbing his cheek against the angel’s plump hand.

“I think about that look you give me every time we’re out to eat something. Of course I notice, I am not blind. I don’t think you’re aware how obvious your interest is. I like it, though, your attention focused only on me. Not very modest of me, I’m afraid.”

He could swear that the corners of Crowley’s mouth inched upwards, even if by millimetres only.

“I think about you, being able to have anyone, _anyone_ you want, and choosing me.” There was a short pause and then Aziraphale gathered the courage he needed to ask: “Are you still? Choosing me, I mean.”

Crowley didn’t miss a beat. “Always, angel.”

Finally, he opened his eyes again, looking right at Aziraphale. There were no barriers now, no shields to hide behind, and the angel was hit by the full power of that gaze. If his heart skipped a beat, well, it was no wonder. A strong feeling radiated from Crowley, fierce and intense, and so full of the demon’s love that Aziraphale felt like he was drowning in it. The wave hit him, flooding his senses like a tsunami, overloading them, and it was suddenly too much, crushing him under the weight of it, suffocating him. Hurting him.

Aziraphale tried to endure it, to soak it up with his whole being and show an acceptance to all of it, but he felt so tiny in comparison, so unimportant in the scale of the universe, unable to contain it all. And it probably showed, because after just a few moments Crowley forced himself to tone it down. “Sssorry, are you alright?”

When Aziraphale was able to exhale again, he nodded, lowering his gaze. He lost his words at that revelation. How could one person, no matter if a human, a demon or even an angel, have so much love inside them? He was trying to catch his breath and persuade his human heart to calm down, when he noticed Crowley was speaking again. No, not speaking, more like muttering. Aziraphale caught only few words, though.

‘Sorry’, ‘stupid’ and ‘won’t do it again’.

Still mostly dumbfounded, he reached for the demons’ hands again, clutching them tightly, both to draw Crowley’s attention and to ground himself. “Don’t you dare beating yourself up over this. What you feel is valid and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, not even yourself.”

Once he got himself mostly under control, he continued. “I-I hoped that- a part of you could- but you- exceeded all my expectations. The extent- I cannot claim to match it, but–” Aziraphale stroked Crowley’s knuckles with his thumb, trying to focus on anything specific in the mess of his scattered thoughts. “But I feel the same and I felt the same three years ago. Or ten years ago. Or hundred years ago and probably much longer, even if I didn’t know it then. And you loved me the whole time, even when I was unaware of it, even when I was being difficult, even when I did nothing to deserve it, you still kept loving me. You did absolutely _nothing_ wrong, my dear.”

For a moment, Crowley’s unblinking eyes kept staring at the angel, worry and disbelief mixing with hope, and then his face suddenly crumpled as he finally allowed himself to let go of his guilt and shame that kept bottling inside for far too long. Before the first tear could slide down his cheek, Aziraphale released his hands, carefully grasped his shoulders instead and pulled him to himself into an embrace, watching for any signs of reluctance. But the initial stiffness was soon replaced by relief and Crowley all but sagged against him, his hands blindly grabbing the back of Aziraphale’s waistcoat. He buried his face into Aziraphale’s chest and even though he didn’t make any sound, the angel could feel his shoulders trembling.

“And neither did I when I chose to love you back.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait - I decided to rewrite the chapter; originally, it was short and kinda sweet, and now it's... not. I like it better this way, I guess. Anyway, I have to adjust the following chapters as well, which may take few days, so... yeah...

The rest of the tea Aziraphale made for himself went cold long before it was miraculously reheated, only to grow cold once more. Finally, it was poured down the drain and a new one was made, this time accompanied with a black coffee with decent amount of sugar in it. It was almost dawn and although the sun wasn’t up yet, it was fairly bright outside. If someone strained their ears a bit, an occasional bird’s song could be heard, thanks to temporary lack of traffic.

On the sofa, Crowley abruptly woke up. He wasn’t aware that he had fallen asleep.

In a couple of seconds, Crowley’s sunglasses managed to find their way back to their owner’s nose, where they proudly fulfilled their purpose of shielding all and any emotions from unwanted audience. And if they managed to hide the traces of how red-rimmed and puffy their owner’s eyes were, well, it was a welcomed plus.

When the coffee was put down on the table before him, Crowley acknowledged it with a nod, but remained silent. With a glance, Aziraphale considered the atmosphere in the room and decided to carry his own winged mug to the opposite side of the coffee table. He sat down on an armchair so that he could face the demon and tried to make himself comfortable, pretending that this was where he wanted to sit. Here and definitely not there, on the sofa across from him, next to a tired and still mostly miserable-looking demon.

Crowley was clearly uneasy and restless, almost like he wanted to jump up and pace around, or maybe go hide somewhere in a dark corner, but his hands were occupied by the provided mug, anchoring him in place, so he had to make do with just a little fidgeting instead.

He hadn’t dare to make an eye-contact, but stiffly mumbled an apology to a general direction of the angel, once again trying to recreate a firm gap between them and rebuild all the barriers, painstakingly took apart during the previous hours. 

“I meant every word I said earlier. You know that, don’t you?” Aziraphale hurried up with what he hoped would be a reassurance and watched for a reaction. He didn’t want to sit here and wait for Crowley to overthink everything and jump to wrong conclusions. Aziraphale knew he would, he always did. With a pang of shame, the angel acknowledged that it was partly his fault as well. He never thought it necessary to communicate with more clarity, never saw a need to convey his intentions and thoughts with words when they both were used to gestures and implications of their actions. Now he knew he should have, if only to spare Crowley any insecurity. It was too late to fix the past, but there was still a chance to change the present and Aziraphale didn’t want to see the demon clam up again because of something that could be avoided. Who knows for how long he would disappear this time.

Pushing too strongly wasn’t his stronghold, though, never has been. So he waited.

And then waited some more.

His mug was already half empty, even though he sipped the tea slower than usual. Crowley managed to finish his coffee in three big gulps and for the last ten minutes was nursing just an empty mug.

“I know.” He paused, and Aziraphale waited, expecting there will be more.

“I’m sorry. It… may take some time to get used to. I’m no- I’m not–”

“I know, Crowley. And as I told you – we _will_ talk about it, at length, and I will be cross with you about what you’ve done, don’t think I won’t–“

“You’ve got every right to be,” the demon muttered quietly.

“But before that we have to do deal with the other situation.”

Crowley stared at him – presumably, it was difficult to tell with the sunglasses – frowning a little. Then he seemed to get it. “Oh, yeah, the antichrist. Right, uh,” he turned his gaze outside of the window, searching for an answer. As expected, it didn’t take long. “I- might have a plan.”

***

The sun was high in the sky, its rays streaming through the windows and falling onto a rug where a little girl was currently playing with blocks. In last few hours, ideas have been discussed and plans have been made, and now it was time for Crowley and Eve to go. The demon stood up, causing both the angel and the child to look up at him.

“Crowley, wait.”

“Hmm?”

“Ah, it’s just – how is it going to be from now on?”

Confusion appeared on Crowley’s face, followed by a frown line on his forehead. “Wha- we just went over the plan? I thought 'twas clear?”

“No, no, I mean- between us? And with the little lady.” His gaze wandered to the girl, who sat there staring at both of them, blocks before her temporarily forgotten.

Crowley sensed that what was coming wasn’t going to be nice and easy, so he collapsed back on the sofa, focusing on bracing himself for upcoming discussion rather than on staying upwards. “What do you propose?”

Aziraphale took a deep breath and wriggled his hands in anxious gesture. “I wish to be more involved. To spend more time with you both. I would like to do more than just help you out when you’re in a pinch. I’ve lost so much time that I could have spent with you already and I don’t want to lose any more of it.”

Crowley looked tired, the difficult night taking its toll on him. He briefly closed his eyes and lowered his head as if in defeat. “I’m doing what I can, angel. We’re here as often as possible, any more and we would be living here. It’s not safe, you know that. We’re putting you in danger.”

“You’re plenty in danger yourselves.”

“Yeah, we are. No need to drag you in with us.”

“That’s not up to you.”

The demon looked up again and his eyes peeking over the sunglasses locked up with Aziraphale’s. “I think it is. I’m sorry it turned out like this. I didn’t- I would get rid of the whole mess if I could.”

“You would, wouldn’t you?”

Crowley could clearly hear the bitterness accompanying those words. It was a clear insinuation to what the demon did to the angel, and it hurt, but it seemed he wasn’t the only one hurting here. He thought about it, not only now, but for months, years even, wondering if he could have done something differently, if he could have found different solution had he had more time. But he didn’t reckon there was any – not without a risk he wasn’t willing to take.

He tried, and failed, to imagine what Aziraphale must feel right now. There wasn’t any reason why he should be so opposed to the current situation. They did see each other about once a week – far more frequently than in the past, but hopefully not that much that it would be suspicious. And as far as he knew, Aziraphale wasn’t that keen on children – he used to avoid them like a plague, so he was quite astonished when he realized the angel is actually interested in spending time with this one. And after all, it was him who was always so careful, who used to push the demon away to keep them both safe. Surely, he must understand what Crowley was doing. What was at stake.

“I told you I had no choice.”

“I don’t think that’s truth,” Aziraphale replied quietly. Corners of his mouth raised slightly into a smile, but the gaze of his eyes was hard. Crowley’s stomach dropped.

“Come again?”

“You could have stayed long enough to talk to me. You could have asked how I feel about the whole thing. Or you could have said something later! You could have called me when you woke up-“

“I couldn’t.”

“You _could have_. I would have listened–“

Crowley was shaking his head. “And what would I have said? ‘ _Hey, Aziraphale, guess what? You don’t remember it, but I raped you and now I’m pregnant_.’”

“You didn’t– “

“You didn’t know that.” Crowley interrupted him, raising his voice. “ _I_ didn’t know. And I’m still not…” His voice disappeared, leaving the demon struggling to breathe properly. He tried to think back to the previous night, tried to remember Aziraphale’s kind words, but his mind was pulling up blanks.

The angel sighed. “You still don’t believe me, do you? Very well, I’ll tell you as many times as you need to hear it – it wasn’t your fault and you didn’t–“ He frowned in disgust and it was obvious he wanted to avoid saying that word. Instead, he took a deep breath, a luxury Crowley couldn’t afford at the moment, and continued. “We both wanted it. I am sorry I didn’t make it clear and I’m sorry you thought I’m not trustworthy enough for you to talk to me.” This was as far as he got, before the frustration couldn’t be bottled any longer and started to leak from Aziraphale’s words. “But how you reacted afterwards? The fact that you run away and avoided me for a year? That you refused to let me know what’s happening to you? That you didn’t even tell me the truth about Eve? That is simply–“ _Inexcusable, appalling, pathetic._ “–too much and it’s all on you. How did you think it’s going to end up? That you will somehow manage to hide her from me forever?”

Crowley bowed his head in misery. “I didn’t– I wasn’t thinking…”

Aziraphale’s anger was slowly fizzling out, only to be replaced by desperation. “I would have listened, if you had told me. I would have helped you–”

“And how was I supposed to know that? You never even hinted that you– You spend your time with me, but still call me demon, spatting the word like it’s something filthy. You keep accepting my invitations, but say you don’t trust me in the same breath. You’re the only–“ Crowley stopped to swallow with some difficulty, and if somebody was watching him, they would say he’s about to cry. He continued more quietly: “But you don’t need me the way I need you. I couldn’t risk giving you a reason to leave. I couldn’t lose you. I still can’t. But deep down? I just keep wondering when it will come. When you finally decide I’m not worth it. Not _if –_ _when_.”

“Crowley–“

But at that moment, Aziraphale was interrupted by quiet whine.

“Mama.” Eve appeared before the demon out of nowhere and he immediately lifted her up to his lap, trying to smile at her.

“What is it, little monster? Are you hungry?”

The girl nodded and her gaze ended up on Aziraphale, watching him with a hint of uncertainty.

“We’ll go in a minute. Let me just finish it up with the angel here, okay?”

When she nodded, Crowley turned to Aziraphale again.

“Listen. I’m sorry. I fucked up and I keep fucking up, that’s apparently who I am. One big failure. I can’t change the past and neither can you. I would do anything for you. _Anything_. But I won’t put you in unnecessary danger.”

“So don’t! If it’s so much trouble.” As soon as the angel blurted it out, his expression changed. Crowley thought he saw regret there, but then Aziraphale bit his lower lip and turned away, and he couldn’t be sure. He noticed Eve was watching him, her blue eyes wide with puzzlement. The angel’s eyes. He stroke her wavy red hair, closed his eyes, and kissed her temple.

“Is that what you want? For me to leave you alone?” He carefully avoided expressing any emotion. The last thing he needed right now was to influence Aziraphale’s answer in any way. The rest of his life depended on it.

The seconds ticked by, each feeling like a whole year. There wasn’t anything Crowley could do except wait, and suddenly he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to hear the angel’s reply, or not.

Finally, he could hear him sharply inhale.

“No.” Aziraphale muttered quietly. “No, it’s not. What I want is you to trust me, but I reckon that’s not something that just pops up out of nowhere. We will have to work on that – if you’re willing, of course. In the meantime, just… do what you need to do. I’ll leave it up to you, my dear.”

Crowley couldn’t recall when the last time the angel sounded so devastated was or what it was caused by in the past. But this time’s cause was more than obvious – it was him. He made Aziraphale sound so utterly miserable.


	15. Chapter 15

Long after the opening hours, a telephone rang in the empty bookshop. It was too late for any customers to be around and also fairly late for any decent person to call with an inquiry at this hour. Putting down a book he was reading, Aziraphale hurried to answer it, hoping it won’t be just some random stranger not following the social conventions. He was waiting for a phone call, or a message, or any kind of contact for weeks; inpatient at first, worried later on. The more time passed without a word the more anxious he felt, and with increasing frequency he kept wondering if something went wrong. How could the two of them ever have gone without hearing from each other for centuries was beyond him.

“Hello?” Aziraphale’s pulse quickened with expectations.

“Hi, it’s me. Are you ready for tomorrow?”

Oh, thank God.

“Hello, Crowley. Yes, I believe so. I finalized my disguise – you won’t even recognize me.”

“Don’t sound so smug about it. I shouldn’t’ve told you about my idea. At least the kid will like it – Eve likes it.”

“That’s because they don’t know where the idea comes from. Yet.” Aziraphale was smiling. This was a familiar situation. “I am not saying that it is a bad idea – that would be a compliment in your case, wouldn’t it? – not that I don’t want to pay you compliments…” He briefly closed his eyes in frustration. That didn’t go as smoothly as he hoped. “Just, just that it may seem strange to the Dowlings.”

“Oh, puh-lease, the things are so over Mrs. America’s head she won’t even question me; she will hire me on the spot and thank me on her knees that I came to rescue her. It’s you who’ll need some luck – I tried to teach you basics of taking care of plants, but you refused to listen, remember? ‘ _It’s going to be fine_ ,’ you said, ‘ _they just need to know they’re loved_ ’ – as if love can compensate for the lack of appropriate soil moisture.”

“It is going to be fine, Crowley. If anything happens, you’ll be there, you can help me.”

“I’m not your rescue team – I’ll have two kids to take care of.”

Aziraphale’s face lit up with a smile – he couldn’t help it. “And you will be wonderful, my dear.” A pause. “I hope I can see you two tomorrow? It’s been a while…”

“I know, angel, I’m sorry.”

Aziraphale closed his eyes and debated with himself whether to continue. Then he started slowly, before stopping himself. “You wouldn’t– no, that’s ridiculous. Forget about it.”

“Huh? What was that?”

“No, it’s just…” _You aren’t, by any chance, avoiding me again, are you?_ “Say hello to Eve from me.”

“Yeah, sure thing. But starting tomorrow we should be able to see each other more often, right? Living in the same house ‘n all. It will be fun.”

Aziraphale quietly sighed. “I hope so. See you tomorrow.”

“See ya.”

***

In the end, it took almost two weeks before he was able to meet Crowley. Or Nanny Ashtoreth, as she referred to herself now. The demon got hired on the spot, just as they expected, but as she was staying in the mansion, where someone from a number of helping staff was always around, and Aziraphale got accommodated in a little cabin on the farther end of the estate, there weren’t many opportunities to actually meet. Or so the angel tried to persuade himself during long nights spent staring into books, not seeing a single word written there.

He had looked forward to this new mission, thinking that it would give them an opportunity to interact and coexist in one place without being under such heavy scrutiny from Above and Below. He presumed that both Heaven and Hell would keep back to avoid attracting too much attention while also being aware that the two of them are operating in the same area. The darkest place is under the candlestick and all that.

But as the things were, he was slowly getting fed up with the little dance of avoidance the demon was doing with him. He remembered their little chat they had in his flat three– no, it was already four months ago, quite vividly, to be honest, but he thought that they already moved past it. They mutually agreed that there’s no point arguing about what happened as it was impossible to find a common ground at this time. Which was as much frustrating as infuriating, at least for Aziraphale, because no matter how he tried, he couldn’t imagine he would have behaved the same way the demon did if their roles had been reversed. It didn’t make any sense to him why Crowley decided to act the way he did, but then he wasn’t the one who experienced Falling. If the demon was genuinely terrified that what they had done would lead to Aziraphale going through the same thing as he once did and if he believed he was to blame for it… There were lots of ifs whirling in the angel’s head, but no real answers or solutions.

What Crowley did, what he hide from him wasn’t something that could be easily forgiven. He had the right to be angry, furious even, but it was still Crowley – the same one that stood beside him for centuries, the same one that used to drink with him until early hours, that gave him a helping hand when needed and offered to listen when the angel needed to blow off steam. He couldn’t let this destroy whatever relation between them was. He simply wouldn’t. Not now and not ever.

Letting Crowley know beforehand that he’s coming, he visited him at his flat, bringing new picture books for Eve, and an unsaid proposal to forget about their last conversation and act like it never happened. Aziraphale didn’t know about Crowley, but for him it was one of the most awkward meetings he had ever had, considering that it wasn’t even that long.

He truly believed they would be able to go back to how things were. The handful of times he managed to drag the demon out for them to see each other after their little heart-to-heart, Crowley seemed fine. Or rather the same as always – holding an easy conversation while watchfully scanning their surroundings, indulging him with the best selection of sweets while he himself drank only the strongest coffee the small kid-friendly café offered. He even pretended he didn’t see Aziraphale drop two sugar cubes into his cup (an usual amount he would add himself were they not in public as he believed it ruined his image), when he was bent to help Eve get up from the floor. They were just normal meetings – pleasant enough like the previous ones, but a bit impersonal. They were in public, though, so that was to be expected. Nothing suggested there was something unusual weighting on Crowley’s mind.

Only, come to think of it, the demon didn’t suggest to continue their evenings in the bookshop, even though Aziraphale had a decent wine prepared just in case. He then expected Crowley to be in touch, to come visit him with Eve or just invite him out, how he used to, but the demon only phoned him a couple of times, mainly to inform him about the sudden vacancies in Dowlings’ household and to further discuss their plan.

It seemed as if Crowley couldn’t get over the argument they had, after all.

Lost in these thoughts, Aziraphale let himself through the back door of the mansion and came face to face with the one being he wanted to see. Well, two, actually.

Crowley froze for a second; she should have sense him just as Aziraphale should have sensed her, but for some reason their unexpected meeting took them both by surprise.

“Oh, sorry, my dear, I didn’t want to scare you. I was just on my way to the kitchen; I heard that there’s some kind of grilled fish for today’s lunch and I’m rather intrigued what the cook has done with all the vegetable I happened to find in the pantry the other day. Ah, hello, little lady.” Eve, who hid the moment Aziraphale came in and only peaked at him from behind Crowley’s skirt, finally deemed him safe and reappeared. Still eyeing him as if she wasn’t entirely convinced of his intentions, she hesitantly held out her hands to him in a clear sign that she wanted to be picked up. So he did.

“Is this what you wanted? Yes? Splendid, I got it right.”

“Sorry about it. She’s getting heavier and I have to carry the baby most of the time, so I can’t pick her up anymore.”

Aziraphale beamed at the little girl. “Lucky you have me, then, hmm? I can hold you as long as you want.”

“Don’t promise her that, she’ll be spoiled rotten.”

He pretended he didn’t hear that and produced a colourful sweet from his pocket.

“Look what I have for you – a lollipop!”

“Aziraphale!”

“Save it for after lunch, sweetheart. And don’t forget to brush your teeth.” She nodded and clutched the lollipop in her tiny fist.

Aziraphale then turned to Crowley. “Is everything alright?”

“As alright as it can be when there’s an Antichrist upstairs, who categorically refuses to sleep at night, oh, and the world is ending in few years. No biggie.”

He nodded, accepting the demon’s apparent inability to stop being sarcastic in these times. She did look tired and Aziraphale was suddenly hit by the realization he couldn’t recall when the last time he saw Crowley looking anything but tired was. Hell must be really demanding with the Apocalypse getting near and it probably didn’t help that Crowley had her plate full even before this latest plan of hers.

“What are you two up to? Going out?”

“GP appointment. This monkey is getting her vaccines.”

“I don’t wanna,” Eve scrunched her nose and pulled closer to him.

Aziraphale looked a little alarmed. “Does she need them?”

“No idea, but better safe than sorry, I guess.”

“Of course, you’re absolutely right.”

Crowley took a long look at him, probably giving herself a moment to think. Then, closing her eyes for a second and tightening her jaw as if steeling herself, she took the leap and blurted out quickly: “Wanna, err, you don’t have to, but I thought– would you come with us? If you want.”

And Aziraphale found himself speechless for a moment. Silly him, he must have heard wrong– but no, the demon was watching him with worry and anxiety written all over her face, so she probably really said what he thought he heard. As the realization settled in, he couldn’t help but let a smile spread on his face, because this was it, wasn’t it? This was a first step forward since _the_ conversation. This was Crowley finally showing some signs of overcoming whatever it was that held her back; Crowley breaking up her shell and reaching out, trying to get the angel involved in her and Eve’s lives. This was an attempt to show that she had thought about Aziraphale’s words, considering her options, and was now ready to make some compromises. This was her putting her trust in the angel and his ability to take care of himself if necessary.

Or maybe he was just reading too much into it, but frankly, at this moment, he didn’t care.

“I do. Wish to come with you, that is. If you’ll have me.”

“Err, yeah, okay. Great. So, uh, shall we?”

Aziraphale’s eyes sparkled a bit when he replied. “With pleasure, my dear.” Then he looked at the toddler in his arms. “Ready, darling? If you’ll be brave little girl, we might stop for a sweet reward afterwards. What do you say?”

“Yaay!!”

“Yay indeed,” agreed Aziraphale and stepped outside.

Crowley followed with a soft expression spilled over her features, recognizable even with the sunglasses standing in the way.

***

If he thought that meeting was an ice-breaker and they would see each other more frequently, he was proven wrong. It took another three weeks of no contact save for brief glances from afar, before they managed to speak with each other again.

One crisp early afternoon, Aziraphale was doing his best impression of a gardener, paying no heed that it was early February. He was so absorbed in his thoughts he almost missed light, but rapid footsteps approaching him. He looked up from the camellias he was tending to, just in time to see a green blur collide into him. A loud huff escaped him, more for the show than the authentic result of the impact. Instinctively, he put hands around the little girl, making sure she was alright.

“Hello, young lady. What brings you here?”

“She has to learn that not everything she likes is hers to take whenever she wants,” came a strict reply from a slim figure dressed in black. She swiftly approached them with arms around a baby that was leaning against her chest cocooned in a sling made of scarf tied to her. She rocked him slightly and made sure he was asleep before he turned to Aziraphale and to Eve, who was hiding her face in the gardener’s oversized shirt. “Sorry, angel, she’s just at that time when she says No to everything and throws tantrums when denied something.”

“It’s perfectly understandable,” he replied and then added to the little girl: “What was it that you wanted?”

At first she only fidgeted, unsure if she should stay silent, but then she pulled back a little bit: “Mister Wabbit.”

“Mr. Rabbit?”

Crowley sighed. “Yeah, Warlock has a small plush rabbit in his cot and this lassie keeps taking it, even when that Dowling woman’s watching. What did I tell you about taking other people’s things?”

“…they not see.”

“Exactly – it’s better to take them when they don’t see it. Wicked girl.” She shifted her hold on the baby and held out her hand towards Eve. “Now let’s go back–“

“Why don’t you stay for a while?” Aziraphale blurted out. Startled by his own boldness, he fell silent for a moment, but then he decided to press on and hurriedly continued: “Look–” Suddenly, a small wooden cabin could be seen in a gap between bushes, even though there was nothing there only a minute ago. “–my cottage is right here and it’s warm in there. We can have hot cocoa and some snacks. If you like,” he added with openly hopeful expression on his face. He looked questioningly at the demon and almost sighed in relief when he recognized a tiny agreeing smile.

“Sounds acceptable.”

***

Baby Warlock was still sleeping and Eve was outside, busy digging holes in empty flower beds with a little trowel while making sure that she managed to get dirt all over her, hair included. Just before Aziraphale and Crowley went inside, he gave her a small bag full of seeds. “Try planting these, love. Those are tulips, they have beautiful red blossoms.” The girl took them with a happy glint in her eyes and set about planting them. “When you’re done or when you feel cold, come inside, okay?” Aziraphale smiled at her and then turned to join the demon.

Nursing his hot cocoa, Aziraphale was watching the little kid in her green winter jacket through the window, still not really grasping that she’s his child. Crowley’s – sure, he got used to that information quite some time ago; but that she’s also his, that was still somewhat odd and didn’t feel quite real.

“Those are daffodils and it’s a bit late for planting them.”

He turned to look at Crowley next to him, who was still rocking the sleeping baby. “I don’t think she cares either way; I just thought it would be fun for her. And I can always just speed up their development a bit, make them bloom in the right time.”

“Better not, it’s not a good place for them anyway – it would take a lot of work to maintain them here.” She glanced at him. “How you’ve been?”

Aziraphale kept looking outside. _Awful, since you decided to keep your distance._ “Fine. Good. Tip-top.” He paused, listening to quiet cracks of fire in a hearth behind them. Neither of them talked.

And then they tried to speak at the same time.

“I was wonder–”

“Listen–“

Both stopped, startled by the other, then Crowley gestured for him to continue.

Aziraphale glanced at her before he let this gaze fell to his mug, which he clutched tighter. “How are things with the Antichrist?” was all he asked.

Crowley looked at the baby in her arms, taking in his soft hair and very visible blue veins running under the skin of his head. She lightly stroked him, careful not to wake him up. “He’s a sweet little baby. Nothing inherently evil, as far as I can tell. Except for his wails – you do not want to hear _that_. Eve was far more manageable.”

They both looked outside at the little digger, who abandoned the trowel in favour of continuing with her hands.

“So it’s a tad early to try to influence him now, isn’t it? We will have to wait and keep an eye on him in the meantime. I expect I’ll be around him more, once he’s older.”

Crowley made a noncommittal sound and sipped her cocoa.

Aziraphale glanced at her before looking back at Eve.

“I simply have to admit I admire your skills in the subject of taking care of babies. Will you tell me about her? How she was as a baby? I can’t believe I haven’t ask before.”

“Sure, if you want. I have to babysit tonight, ‘cause the Dowlings are invited to a dinner at Thai embassy, but I’m free tomorrow evening.”

“Excellent! I have a lovely restaurant in mind we could try. Or we could stay here and have something delivered, if you feel like it.”

“Whatever you want, angel, just say the word.”

“Jolly good. Tomorrow at six, perhaps? We could meet outside the gates – I really do not wish to go to the town dressed like this,” he gestured to his idea of what a gardener’s clothes should look like that had basically nothing in common with actual clothes a gardener would wear. “Oh, how I miss my usual attire. It’s undoubtedly fun to pretend to be someone else, but I feel like an imposter if I don’t tie my bow-tie every morning.”

“That’s because you are one.” Crowley smirked. “I happen to like my choice. The bra and lack of pockets suck, but otherwise…” she shrugged.

“You look wonderful, my dear.” Aziraphale debated whether he should try to initiate a physical contact. Nothing too straightforward, nor provocative, only a simple touch would be enough. He wasn’t the type to be audacious enough to actively seek such contact, and spending millennia almost without the feel of other beings taught him not to think too much about it. Be content with what you have and all that. Yet now there was an opportunity and the right person, so for the first time in a long while Aziraphale felt an odd curiosity he would very much like to satisfy.

Unsure of his decision, he carefully reached to the left and put a hand on Crowley’s shoulder, lightly grasping it. It was a bold move, he knew, and a long debate with himself preceded it, but in the end he decided to risk it. If he felt any trace of reluctance or insecurity from the demon, he would withdraw his hand immediately and apologize for assuming, but he had to try. He had to make sure he hadn’t make the conversation they had in his bookshop up; that he hadn’t imagined Crowley in his arms, desperately clinging to him, relieved at the revelation that they both feel the same.

The moment he touched her, he felt her tense and hurriedly started to pull back, cold terror rising in his chest, sure that he did manage to screw it up. Crowley’s other arm shot up and caught Aziraphale’s retreating hand just few centimetres from her shoulder. Slowly, she pulled it back where it was and covered her hand with his, weighing it down. She glanced in his direction and her expression spoke of pleasant surprise and a tiny bit of uncertainty. Aziraphale’s treacherous heart was racing, not unlike a terrified rabbit’s one, flooding his body with adrenaline he didn’t have an outcome for. He couldn’t get rid of the feeling that he managed to dodge a bullet here, even if he knew that is not the case. Crowley _was_ interested, she said so herself. It had to be the truth, there was no reason not to believe her, although it didn’t feel like it.

The demon was, for some reason, holding back. There was no other explanation for her actions. Or lack of them, to be precise. Aziraphale thought that _something_ would happen, that there would be a significant and well-defined change, which would make it clear that that was then and this is now. Yet nothing happened and Aziraphale was confused.

They stood there, silently watching their little girl playing outside and occasionally sipping the rest of cocoa until the baby in Crowley’s sling started to wiggle. Aziraphale looked at him just in time to see the little Antichrist turn his head towards him. The baby squeaked and scrunched his tiny face. Then he sharply inhaled and let out a cry. Crowley immediately let go of the angel’s hand and started to stroke back of the baby’s head, rocking him slightly and whispering soft words to him. Aziraphale quickly pulled his hand back and took Crowley’s almost empty mug from her to free her other hand.

She glanced at him. “We gotta go.”

“Yes, of course. See you tomorrow?”

“Sure. Bye angel.”

“Goodbye, my dear.”

He waited by the open door to wave at Eve and kept looking after their retreating silhouettes as long as he could see them and then some. It was a pity that the overwhelming sense of loss wouldn’t leave him too.


	16. Chapter 16

It felt good to just sit here, drink a passable wine and listen to some rubbish his adversary was blabbering about. Crowley was himself again for the evening and it reminded Aziraphale of good old times. It had a touch of familiarity, and of course it did – they used to meet like this and drink for centuries, enjoying good alcohol and even better company. Those moments when they could ignore the rest of the world and forget about their positions in the whole scheme were precious and as such were to be savoured, which both of them did. Even now Aziraphale felt a warm bubbly feeling spread all over him, making him smile. Happiness. Or it was possibly due to the wine, hard to tell, really.

He watched Crowley wildly gesticulate while in the middle of recalling some funny story. It must have been interesting, judging by the wide range of demon’s expressions and bits of sentences that entered his brain, but Aziraphale couldn’t focus enough to make sense of it. His own thoughts were distracting him, swirling around, bringing all sorts of different ideas and suggestions, and soon the giddiness had to make space for less welcomed feelings, leaving him with a slightly distracted look on his face.

It took some time, but eventually Crowley noticed that something was not right with his companion.

“It’s nothing, my dear, don’t worry about it.”

“So you can be the one worrying here? Nah, I don’t think ssso.” With unnecessary vehemence, Crowley leaned back in his armchair and crossed his arms, showing that he’s ready to argue about whatever was the issue all night long.

Aziraphale sighed. “I’m just confused.”

“That’s a normal state for you.” Crowley waved his hand dismissively towards him. “Sorry, be my guest and do continue.”

“Well, I’m at least consistent in my behaviour. I don’t declare one thing and then do a complete opposite– I’m sorry,” he briefly closed his eyes, instantly losing his fighting spirit. “That was uncalled for. Forget I said anything.”

“No, nu-uh, you’re clearly upsset ‘bout somethin’. What is it?”

“It’s nothing,” replied Aziraphale quickly, but then let himself actually consider a more appropriate reply. In his exasperation, the idea got lost somewhere between his brain and his mouth, though, so what came out was: “I mean, you’re so, so… you know, and I, ah, well, of course I am, but then you– and I don’t understand anything anymore!”

“Uh-huh,” agreed Crowley. “Sorry, you’ll hafta be more specific, I got jack-shit from that.”

“Language, my dear. You’re – what’s that expression nowadays? – sending mixed mines? Why anyone would send mines of all things, I wonder–“

“Signs. It’s ‘sending mixed signs’, for Heav- uh, yeah, whatever. Am I?“

“Aren’t you?” He sighed again. “Let’s just forget I said anything, shall we?”

“Absolutely not. Why would–“ Crowley cut himself off when he saw Aziraphale’s tired expression that indicated the angel isn’t above begging at this point if it meant abandoning the topic quicker. He clearly didn’t want to have this conversation, whatever it was about. The demon didn’t have the heart to go on, so just bitterly added: “Oh, fine, fine, don’t tell me then. Let’s hope it will work better for you than it did for me.” He reached for his glass that filled itself in a hurry and downed it before he stood up. “I’ll better go.”

“See? That’s exactly what I’m talking about!”

“Wha’? You didn’ tell me anythin’! Do you expect me to guess? How many tries do I get?”

“That’s not funny, Crowley.”

“Good, it isn’t supposssed to be. Look, you’re not ready to talk ‘bout it, fine, I get it, have it your way. Jusst – I’m here… if you need me. Any time, you hear me? Any bloody time you want.”

He looked at Aziraphale expectantly, waiting. Hoping.

“Are you?” replied the angel, barely above whisper.

Crowley’s shoulders sagged and he just turned away. His whole posture screamed with disappointment and Aziraphale had had rarely felt an urge to comfort him so strongly as now. He forced himself to stay put.

“Good night, angel.” The demon half-heartedly waved at him and disappeared through the door into the darkness outside the cottage.

A small flat whisper of “Good night, Crowley” followed him.

***

The days that followed were sort of a blur for Aziraphale. He managed to catch few glances of Crowley, now back in the role of Nanny Ashtoreth, taking slow strolls with kids through garden in the still chilly afternoons of late February, but decided not to bother her. To be absolutely honest with himself, he was a bit embarrassed to show his face. The argument he stirred up was unnecessary. He should have stayed focused and calm, and he should have handled the situation much better than that. It would have been far more helpful to express his concerns and work it through with Crowley this time, he knew that, rationally. And yet he couldn’t persuade himself to make the first step, petulantly hoping that the demon would march over and fix it for him as she always did.

Not this time, although not for lack of trying.

After a bit over a week, Aziraphale found a gift basket with selection of dried fruits waiting for him. Attached to it was a short note “Whenever you’re ready”. Two weeks later it was a wooden box with various types of cheese and a short letter with some news from the mansion. In another ten days he found himself with many different types of flavoured tea and a simple note that said “9-ish tonight”.

That one made Aziraphale feel like he missed a step or two on his way down the stairs. It seemed like Crowley finally couldn’t take it anymore. He was well aware that the radio silence on his side must have been frustrating, especially if she missed him as much as Aziraphale missed her. It was no wonder she wanted them to make up again, even if it meant that she would be the one to make the first move. She had made plenty of those in the past, probably most of them, and here she was, doing it again. Aziraphale felt a pang of guilt, regretting that he once again hasn’t tried enough. He promised himself he will do better tonight. This problem wasn’t just Crowley’s the same way it wasn’t just Aziraphale’s. If they wanted to do something about it, they would have to discuss it together. And Crowley made it clear that he’s ready to listen, so now it was upon Aziraphale to make sure he’s ready to talk. ***

At 21:22, Crowley threw the cottage door open, not bothering to knock beforehand. She had a determined look on her face that loudly announced she’s prepared for anything, even a fight if need be.

„Look, I know you’re angry with me, so whatever I said or did, I apologize. I’ll do better from now on. Good?“

Aziraphale looked up from his empty glass of whiskey, his gaze uncertain, but not surprised. A moment ago he was contemplating how this talk might go and he was pretty sure he had few acceptable scenarios thought up, but once the demon appeared, he forgot them all. Feeling like he was in thick fog, he slowly took in Crowley’s long lean figure draped in long skirt, winter coat and that dark red scarf he got her for Christmas. He swallowed with some difficulty.

Crowley didn’t wait for a reply; she dropped her coat haphazardly on the back of an armchair (but left the scarf on), poured herself some whiskey and plopped down opposite Aziraphale.

“Thank you for your gifts.”

She waved her hand. “Don’t mention it.”

“No, I- I appreciate them. It was thoughtful of you.”

Crowley waited few seconds, but Aziraphale didn’t seem to want to add anything else. She swept her gaze around the room, not looking at anything in particular, possibly not even seeing it at all, and exhaled loudly. Then she turned to the angel, her posture tense but resolute. “Look, I mean it, I really am sorry. For everything. I know I had no right to do what I did and no matter what I tell myself, it’s obvious I shouldn’t have done that. Any of that. I should have taken the responsibility, even if it turned out I did betray you and it would have meant being smitten by you – and not in the enjoyable sense. I should have stayed to accept whatever punishment was meant for me, or to take the blame others might put on you. I was being selfish, thinking only about how _I_ couldn’t lose you like that. It never occurred to me that you – you know – as well. Without you– I can’t.” She bowed her head and shook it. “And I definitely should have told you about Eve. I shouldn’t have– I didn’t tell you, I thought I wouldn’t have to. I-I’d have– I tried–“ She paused, trying to swallow, but her throat constricted, making her next breath shudder.

Aziraphale watched her for a second, then promptly stood up and went to her side. With far too much caution, he perched at the edge of suddenly miraculously wider armchair and lightly touched her forearm, feeling her twitch and curl her fingers. He stroked the sleeve and the arm underneath it with the tips of his fingers, watching her face turn away from him.

“I didn’t want her.”

Deep down, Aziraphale expected it, he really did, but it hurt anyway. He could have lost Eve without ever knowing her. Without even knowing _about_ her. He couldn’t imagine wanting to destroy a living thing. He understood causing the death by mistake or carelessness – his doves and rabbits used in magic tricks could tell you bunch of very interesting stories about it, but to go out of his way to _eradicate_ a person, to intentionally choose to end someone’s life, that was something unthinkable.

He was thinking of it wrong, though, wasn’t he. He was picturing Eve as he knew her now – a healthy and adorable little girl, but back then there wasn’t a child yet, only Crowley. Crowley, who was left on her own and weighed down by guilt and fear, not knowing what to do.

It wasn’t Eve back then, not for Crowley, not yet. She must have seen it like a horrendous consequence of her wrongdoing, like a kind of punishment forced on her for her mistake–

This wasn’t the right time to ponder over this, not with Crowley being so vulnerable at the moment. He would have to leave it for another time – right now it was important to focus on the demon. His demon.

Aziraphale squeezed her arm a little. “I don’t blame you.”

“I do.” She confessed in a flat tone. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. You had the right to know – she’s yours.”

“As she is yours, my dear. You did what you thought was right at that time, however lousy it might seem now. You bore all the responsibility, selflessly taking care of her, even if the circumstances of how she came to be must have seem quite dreadful to you. And you did a spiffing job, Crowley. You took excellent care of her and raised a wonderful young lady.” He couldn’t help but smile a little.

“I must apologize as well. I was too harsh, blaming you like that. I can’t possibly imagine what you went through and it’s not my place to judge you. It was selfish of me to think that I know better than you and that you can’t make your own decisions – this is your life and you have no obligation whatsoever to accommodate my needs at your own expense. I only want you to know that there is an option to depend on me, should you choose to take it. I’d be honoured. You don’t have to, obviously. But–”

“I would like it. To prove myself to you.”

“There is nothing to prove. You are who you are and I have a soft spot for you because of it. Or maybe in spite of it, hard to tell.” His smile widened for a moment, then dimmed the next one.

He fall silent for a moment, before he continued. “I want you to know that… it is alright if you changed your mind. About… us. I-I thought about what I said last time and I have to admit I was quite officious and didn’t leave you enough space to consider it properly, for which I apologize. If you’re not– if you revised your opinion about this, I will fully understand and accept it. We don’t have to change anything; I’ll forget it all and try to pang-wangle. We will go back to how things were before, if you wish–“

A loud thump of a glass being put down on a table forcefully echoed through the cottage. The glass cracked a little, creating a fine spiderweb reaching upwards. “I don’t!”

“Crowley?” Aziraphale hated how hopeful it sounded; if this-this _arrangement_ wasn’t going to work, he would prefer knowing it than to keep feeding his false hopes.

And he hated even more the fear mixed with frustration he saw on the demon’s face.

“I haven’t changed my mind – I will never change my mind about this, about you. You know that, don’t you? I-shit, I’m so bloody sorry you thought – I wouldn’t, I swear, I wouldn’t!” Her voice trembled as badly as her hands; she had to straighten to almost an upright position and sit on them to make them stop. Her eyes squeezed shut behind the sunglasses, but she couldn’t hide her distress.

Aziraphale watched her for a second, and then reached for her shoulder, grasping it lightly before rubbing it in small circles with his thumb, watching in wonder when her face slightly relaxed and her eyes blinked open again. “Then tell me what I’m doing wrong.”

Her expression quickly changed into a perplexed one. “Wha? What _you_ ’re doing wrong?!”

Aziraphale took advantage of her confusion, reached for her forearm and gently pried her hand free, only to take it into his own to lace their fingers together. “Mm-hm, I must have been doing something, or perhaps misreading some social clues I am not aware of. I apologize for my lack of knowledge in this field, I’m afraid I haven’t quite got the knack of more modern expressions of affection.” He raised their joined hands and gave the back of Crowley’s hand a gentle kiss. “Will you tell me?”

“No, there’s– you’re not doing anything wrong. Quite the contrary.”

“Then why do you keep avoiding me?”

“What? No, I–“ she stopped herself, suddenly out of words. The confusion quickly disappeared, replaced by some kind of realization. And guilt. She slowly closed her mouth as if to prevent herself from saying something that would only embarrass her.

“We’ve been here for weeks and you show up only if the little one stumbles here by accident. Even the weeks before that, you didn’t suggest any of our usual rendezvous. And before, when we actually did go somewhere, you didn’t even propose to come back to yours or mine for the evening. I thought you just needed space, yet when we happen to meet, it seems – forgive me if I’m mistaken – but you seem happy. As if you missed me. I don’t understand…”

“I am, I swear, angel, I am happy to see you. And I would see you more often…”

Aziraphale waited for few seconds before he gently nudged. “But?”

Crowley visibly struggled, desperately holding to her pride. Finally, she deflated in surrender and sighed. “But you don’t ask me to.”

That wasn’t what he expected. “I’ve never had to ask you before, had I? You were always there– “

“Eaahrgh, I know, okay? I know. I- it’s- I, I just can’t.”

“Can’t what, my dear?”

Frustrated, Crowley threw her free hand up. “Can’t barge into your life whenever I fancy it; without any concern for what _you_ want. I’ve done that and it didn’t end up well, did it? And now I keep wondering if you actually want me here or…”

“Obviously, I want you to be here with me, why wouldn’t I?”

Crowley lowered her voice almost into whisper. “…what if I’m just, you know, uhhh, projecting. Or what if you feel obligated–“

“Obligated?!”

“–or confused–“

“Crowley–“

“–and I fuck it up. Again.” Her voice broke in the end. She quickly tried to cover it by continuing her muttering: “I won’t push you into anything, I promise, I’ll let you take the lead and do whatever _you_ want.”

Aziraphale sighed like someone, who’s been expecting that, but was disappointed by the development all the same. “Alright, I reckon I should have seen this coming.” He lifted their still joined hands and laid them on his thigh. “Crowley, you are always welcomed here. Would you feel better about it if I gave you consent? Well, you have my explicit permission to come here any time you want. No–“ He lightly squeezed her hand, when it looked like she wanted to interrupt him. “–let me finish. _Any_ and _all_ time you want. If you’re unsure, ring me up, I have a telephone apparatus here.”

At that moment, an old model with rotary dial appeared on the table in front of them. There wasn’t any cable leading from it, but then again Aziraphale didn’t deemed it necessary, so it wasn’t crucial for it to function properly.

“You don’t need it, but just to be clear – I also give you permission to invite me out or to suggest a-a tryst.” He could feel his cheeks warming up. “I would tell you if I didn’t want to go, but that’s highly improbable. And no, I don’t feel obligated or – _Heaven forbid_ – confused about any of it. If anything, I feel flattered.”

He took the opportunity to lightly kiss the back of Crowley’s hand again before continuing.

“As for the, ah, more physical expressions of interest,” he could feel a blush rising to his cheeks, “at this stage, I would prefer being asked before anything, uh, more significant than simple touch. Or a kiss. If-if you even want that, obviously, I don’t want to assume. I’m sorry my dear, it’s just too new for me.” His smile was rather coy, but there was a spark in his eyes.

“I shall do the same for you, of course. Please tell me if I should stay clear of doing anything specific. I wouldn’t like to cross any of your boundaries, even unknowingly. Ah,” a sudden realization hit him. “I already should have asked, shouldn’t I? Foolish of me – is this acceptable?”

He squeezed Crowley’s hand again and the demon squeezed back in affirmation, not yet trusting her voice.

“If you will agree and if it makes you feel better, I shall take the initiative for the time being. Only until you overcome your insecurities enough to regain more self-confidence. Please do not hesitate to participate however and in whatever extent you wish. I’ll take anything you are willing to give me. Whatever problems or obstacles there will be, whatever we muck up or whatever your side or mine will try to throw at us, I have no doubt we will sort it out. Together.”

Visibly embarrassed, yet trying to play it cool, Crowley cleared her throat.

“You’ve really got a silver tongue. Why are you so great with words, anyway? I always wondered. It’s unfair – I’m the one who should be whispering to humans’ ears’n all that, not you. Aargh, it’s ‘cause of all those books you read, isn’t it?”

Aziraphale kept his gaze on the demon, silently challenging her to stop stalling.

Eventually, she surrendered. “Alright, fine, sounds good, I guess. I could-we could try it out.”

Aziraphale beamed at her, suddenly even more radiant than usual. Happier.

“Jolly good! Now, can you stay, or do you need to get back to the mansion?”

“I’ll stay for a while. If you want?”

“Don’t be silly, my dear, of course I do. More whisky? Or tea? I have those you sent me – the Ceylon one–“

“Whisky’s fine. And…” she paused and licked her lips, desperately trying to regain her composure before she continued. “The ask-before… permission thing? You don’t need to do that with me. I’m fine.”

“And here I thought you hated four-letter words. Alright, I’ll bear that in mind, but when in doubt, I’ll still stick to it, for my own inner peace, if not yours. That being said, would you mind terribly if I stayed sitting here, maybe even a bit closer?”

“Knock yourself out.”

And so Aziraphale did. He shifted so that there wasn’t any space left between them and then started to lean towards her. He moved slowly and deliberately, gradually letting his weight push against the lean body next to him, leaving Crowley time to protest, if she wanted to. After a few more shifts, he snuggled into a comfortable position and rested his head on her shoulder. Crowley held herself stiff at first, visibly surprised by this development and unsure what to do, but not tense with fear or dislike. Then, bit by a bit, she started to relax.

He was worried at first that Crowley would be uncomfortable, if not by proximity, then by Aziraphale’s corporation – because let’s be honest here, his body wasn’t among the smallest or thinnest ones – and he expected it to be awkward and generally not one of his best ideas. The demon didn’t look troubled, though. Maybe still a bit ill at ease, but quickly finding her feet, judging by her arm sneaking behind Aziraphale’s back to hold him even closer. It found its place on angel’s waist, holding him firmly enough that he felt it even under the layers of clothes, but not actually squeezing him.

Aziraphale couldn’t help but think about how wonderful it felt to be this close to another being. He almost forgot the sensation – it was so long ago he let himself lower his guard like this while being with someone else. He had to admit that the pleasant feeling that he does not have to worry about a thing for a little while felt marvellous. It felt _safe_. Almost like being back in Heaven, in the very beginning, when he first became conscious of himself – cocooned by his own wings and surrounded by Her light and Her love. He missed it dearly ever since, all the more that it was the only good memory he had from his time in Heaven. This felt somewhat similar – calming, warm, secure.

Aziraphale could only hope that the experience wasn’t much worse for Crowley. He had tried to think of a sensation that would soothe the demon, bring them physically close, and preferably wouldn’t imply that it should, or could, lead somewhere entirely else, where neither of them were ready to go. This solution might not have been the perfect one, but from Aziraphale’s point of view, it was a milestone they had to pass to get to a next one.

The angel found it immensely reassuring that they at least already did have foundations upon which they could build. But as he found out by his first-hand experience, in order to create upper floors, it was necessary to start with a ground floor. Communication, trust, understanding, and closeness – those were the main pillars they both had to work on first. And work they will. They were in this together, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that's the end.   
> I was a bit too ambitious, even though I don't have the skills to actually pull it of, and it got away from me.   
> Well, it's done, so there's that *shrugs*  
> Anyway, thanks for reading and for all the comments :)


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